


Everything You Love

by Kittypatch



Series: The Other Side of Fear [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Hiatus era, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, triggering content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:46:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 70,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7798768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittypatch/pseuds/Kittypatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete assumed that once they got together everything else would just fall into place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the continuation of part one. Hope you enjoy!

It felt like forever that they stayed away from the party. Pete could hear the bass of the music pulsing through the walls of his bedroom as they remained curled up in the center, kissing. The bottom half of Patrick's face was swollen; lips plump and pink, but Pete couldn't stop, even if he felt raw. Lord, everything felt raw. He felt shattered and they were barely in the New Year.

“Happy 2012,” Pete said, pressing the pad of his thumb against Patrick's bottom lip. “I don't know what kissing my best friend would feel like, but it's not what I thought.”

“It's not bad?” Patrick questioned, freezing up slightly. Pete shook his head, bumping their noses.

“Not bad. It's like relief, actually. It's just never been like that before,” Pete said softly. He kissed Patrick's mouth again, just because he could. “Mostly, I'm just verbalizing my anxieties.”

“We don't have to think about the heavy stuff now,” Patrick said softly, stroking his hand down Pete's cheek. “There'll be a time for that later, not now.”

“Yeah, you're right.” Pete smiled and then started laughing. He rubbed his finger against the smooth bridge of his nose until Patrick shifted his head away. “We can just kiss, right? For the next lifetime? That feels like all I want to do forever.”

“You're a sap,” Patrick said, but then he was leaning in and kissing Pete again. He was hot, sweating slightly beneath the clothes, but it just made him want to inch even closer.

They kept it to themselves for a month. They'd told Ashlee, because she had a right to know according to Patrick, but no one else knew. They just needed to get used to it themselves. The shift wasn't hugely obvious, there was just kissing with the bedtime cuddles now.

They weren't having sex, weren't going anywhere past second base because Patrick wasn't ready for that level of intimacy and Pete wasn't ready to fuck it up right away. They were serious though, now that Pete was certain that he was head over heels for Patrick. He was in it for the long haul. They hadn't had the conversation yet, the one that would have Patrick telling Pete how he'd made him feel for years. It was something to dread, but they were both still pretty high from actually working it out to bring it down.

“I've got a meeting with Brendon,” Pete said over breakfast. Patrick had a smoothie in front of him and was reading one of Bronx's comics that he'd left. He lifted his eyes from the page, but didn't look too enthused at Pete's comment. “It's label stuff, but uh, I haven't really spoken to him since New Years and we need to clear the air and I figured I should tell him about us being official.”

“Good idea and good luck,” Patrick said, eyes dropping back down to the magazine. They weren't reading the page though, Pete could tell. “I get kinda anxious when we talk about him. It's fucked up.”

“Like a trigger?” Pete said, watching Patrick nod. He sort of understood why because, well, Brendon had put his foot in it and triggered Patrick once, and then kissed Pete in front of him. Brendon didn't know either of those things were deal-breakers for Patrick and he wasn't going to be the one to tell him, but he did need to make sure they were on the same page about how now that Pete's with Patrick, he's kind of into monogamy and not hooking up with him anymore. “Anyway, as I figured I was heading for a shitty day with that, it's only fair that you tell Joe.”

“Why should I tell Joe?” Patrick laughed, finally looking up at Pete. “Just send a group text to both him and Andy and it will be fine.”

“No, it won't. He'll think I'm taking advantage of your vulnerability and, like, hurt you.” Pete flopped forward on the breakfast bar. He loved Joe, but he hated dealing with his unreasonable dickishness at times. “You know he had a huge problem with you staying with me right after it happened.”

“Yeah, I know,” Patrick conceded with a wince. “He might take it better from me, but he won't take it well. I think maybe I was in too bad of a place for him to see me before, you know? I think it really broke him.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Pete nodded, because that's what good boyfriends do, but honestly, he was hardly coping when Patrick first came to stay with him, but he kept his freak outs to the time he had alone. “At least you can see your own improvement. That makes me feel good.”

“I know, right?” Patrick's smile was genuine even if he tried to hide it behind his hand. “You deal with Brendon, I'll deal with the drama queen.”

Pete couldn't concentrate the entire meeting with Brendon. Spencer hadn't shown up, but when asked, Brendon said he couldn't get hold of him. Worrying, maybe, considering they'd had plans to record a new record, but not the end of the world.

“I need to talk to you about something else,” Pete said when they were finished. Brendon smiled at him, but he swallowed and looked a little nervous. Pete had been so caught up in his new relationship that he'd not left much thought to the shit he'd done to Brendon.

“About New Years? I guess I read the situation wrong. I thought that's what you wanted,” Brendon explained, shrugging his shoulders. Pete licked his lips and tried to think of a way to explain himself.

“Over the past few months I've really reconnected with Patrick. In brand new ways that I didn't expect. We're together now, like, as a couple. It actually happened at my New Years party and so obviously, like, anything that has ever happened between us needs to stop now. Sorry.” Pete felt like that was possibly the worst way to say it. He'd had more of a cohesive script abandoned somewhere in his head.

“Right.” Brendon's eyebrows crossed in and his fingers tapped restlessly on his chin. Pete looked down at his own hands, not sure what to say next. “Why now though and not all the years you've known him? You never gave him a glance like that for years. What's changed about him now that you're giving the fun we have up?”

“It's different, okay? With him everything slots into place and I don't need empty sex to complete myself.” Probably a bad way to put it, but Brendon didn't look to be falling apart about it. He looked irritated, but not super upset. “It took a long time, but I love him, alright? So we can't fuck around any longer.”

“Whatever,” Brendon said, shrugging his shoulders. “If that's what you really think.”

Pete didn't feel it went the _worst_ it could have gone, and after Brendon left, he spent a few hours in his office, actually attempting to be a fairly decent boss for once. It made him miss music more as he focused on other bands' careers, but he pushed the feeling down. 

When he got back to the house Patrick was still on the phone to Joe. He could hear his voice fading in and out from the yard and so he grabbed his laptop and worked on some emails in the den. He figured if Joe knew, then it was only fair that Andy was clued into the update on his lovelife.

_Andy, it's finally happened...Patrick and I are official. We've been quiet about it since New Years, but figured it was time to tell a few people...namely you, Joe and Brendon. Everything makes sense after all these years. Don't be too mad at me, you know I'm looking after him._

By the time he closed his laptop lid and shut his eyes for a few minutes, Patrick wandered into the room. He kissed Pete and then sat beside him, fingers tapping against his own knees.

“Did it go that bad?” Pete asked, watching Patrick nod his head and then flop against the couch.

“He just wants me to be careful and he's pissed at you. Expect a phone call,” Patrick said, looking up at Pete softly. “He knows he can't change my mind, he just thinks we're rushing into things.”

“I'm not pushing you towards anything,” Pete said firmly, because he hadn't. They hadn't really bought up sex yet, only that it was something Patrick had asked they hold off on. “He knows that, right?”

“Sure, but I mean... I confided in him a lot when we were younger. When the band first started I had the _biggest_ crush on you and it was weird because you were so touchy feely with me that I thought you felt the same. Then I got crushed every time I saw you with girlfriends or random hookups and he was the one that helped me get over it, or work out that you were just an affectionate person that had no interest in me that way,” Patrick said. It burned a little in Pete's chest that he'd made Patrick feel that way as a kid. “Joe was the one that I turned to back then, and even later on when I stopped confiding in him, I think he still knew that I was in love with you so it's kinda hard for him to get his head around this because you pretty much rejected me for years.”

Pete didn't say anything for a while because truthfully he didn't like to think about it. He didn't like to remember that prior to the last five months or so, he'd ignored the obvious signs of Patrick's feelings and wrecked their friendship in the process.

“I'm sorry,” Pete said simply. “I'm sorry I ignored it for years.”

“I'm mostly over it,” Patrick shrugged. “I'm just giving you an explanation for why he isn't happy about this.”

“You wanna talk about that?” Pete said, not wanting to, but it was a conversation that needed to happen. Thankfully Patrick just shook his head and stroked his hand down Pete’s cheek.

“I just wanna make out with my boyfriend,” Patrick responded instead, putting his hands to Pete’s shirt and pulling him in. Pete went with it, happy to get away from that conversation for now. Plus, kissing Patrick was one of his new favorite things.

They stayed kissing for a while until Pete gently pushed Patrick back so he was laying down on the couch. Patrick laughed, shutting his eyes and letting out a sigh before their lips touched again. Patrick's hands were in Pete’s hair, nails sliding over his scalp and it felt so good as his own hands rested with one beneath Patrick's head, the other sliding over his hip. Knowing that making out was as far as they were going to go for the time being, Pete was cautious about not pressing his hips down onto Patrick too heavily, though he did shift so that he could kiss at Patrick's neck, tasting warm skin and sweat until their lips touched again.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Patrick went rigid. His whole body seized up and his lips, that had been soft and supple beneath Pete snapped, teeth clamping around Pete’s bottom lip. Pete pulled away, clutching at his mouth. Patrick's eyes were frozen still and his chest was rising and falling heavily, like he didn't have enough air. Pete sucked the blood from his mouth and rested a hand on Patrick's arm, trying to get him to calm down, or come out of whatever kind of panic attack he was in.

Eventually he seemed to slow down, sitting up with Pete’s help. By this point he was shaking and clammy. Pete stroked his hair, waiting for him to start speaking.

“He was here,” Patrick slurred, voice hoarse. He hadn't been crying out, but it sounded as if he had. “No. It was like I was back at my apartment before it happened, when he was on top of me again.”

“It was a flashback,” Pete said, realizing the truth. “It's okay, you're safe. No one will harm you here.” Patrick still seemed unfocused, his breathing not quite right. It had been a while since his last full on flashback. “It's just fire alarms and losing you, right? Say it back, Patrick.”

“It's just fire alarms and losing you.” Patrick said it over and over, until his breathing sounded a little more normal and his shaking had slowed. “How does that work?”

“Um. I read awhile back that you should ground yourself with something familiar, like an address or something to stare at in the room. It's the first thing that popped into my head.”

“Thank you.” Patrick sounded weak, his eyes red. Pete was at a loss again and felt so totally guilty, like this was all his fault. He reminded Patrick of what happened. “I'm gonna go and just.” Patrick didn't finish his sentence. He stood on shaking legs and walked out of the room.

Pete felt like hell for the rest of the day. Patrick was on the phone in a separate room, Pete could hear his voice low and quiet. He hoped it wasn't Joe, convincing Patrick that this was wrong. He poked at his cut lip with his tongue, lifting the phone to his ear when it started to buzz in his pocket.

“What?” he asked, hearing Andy's soft laugh in his ear as a reaction.

“I got your email. Congrats, I guess,” he said, not leaving his opinion out there as obviously as Joe had. “Please tell me you both thought this through seriously.”

“I thought we had but maybe not,” Pete said quietly. “Why did no one tell me? If I had known how he'd felt before I could have realized my own feelings prior to the shit that happened last year. Things could have been different, a lot different.”

“Because if you have to be told that your best friend is in love with you, then it's probably not gonna end well. You weren't in a good place back then, Pete. You guys would've crashed and burned sooner than anything I can think of.” Andy's voice was soft and Pete soothed himself on it, wishing he was in here and not hundreds of miles away. “Has something happened?”

“He had a flashback when we were making out and it was just--” Pete stopped and tried to think of the best way to word it. “It felt like a reaction to me, like, I was the one hurting him.”

“Fuck dude, that's heavy,” Andy admitted. “Is he okay?”

“I don't think so, but he's avoiding me. The last thing I'd ever do is hurt him like that. I'm not rushing him or anything, I'm doing everything the internet tells me I should be.”

“Pete, he can't stop his body's reaction. You know he's gonna be overwhelmed by this all.” Pete felt bad for his comment, but he hadn't meant it the way Andy took it.

“I don't want whenever we're intimate to be a reminder to what happened to him, that's all I'm saying. I don't want him to associate our love with what went down in his apartment that night,” Pete could feel that his eyes were wet and he wiped them on the back of his hand. “That's why I wish someone had fucking clued me in all those years ago.”

“I know what you meant, but that doesn't mean you should say it. You just need to talk things through together, make a list of the things that he's uncomfortable with and stay clear of them, alright?” Andy said, once more showing why he was the reasonable one of the band

Pete didn't have too much more left to say. He was still upset, but he knew he'd have to figure things out with Patrick eventually. He wasn't left brooding too long, because Patrick wandered back into the room, sitting beside Pete on the couch.

“I'm sorry I cut your lip,” Patrick said softly, touching his finger to Pete’s mouth. “I'm sorry I fucked everything up.”

“You didn't fuck anything up, but uh, we do need to discuss stuff because I don't wanna put you in a position where you get triggered, you know?” Pete said, to which Patrick nodded back.

“I spoke to someone from my support group earlier, they said it's common and that it's because of what we were doing. It wasn't like I thought you were raping me, but it was like I was back in my apartment, when I was making out with him and I pushed him away. It wasn't you on top of me, it was him. Then when you kissed my neck it just made everything worse.”

“Usually your flashbacks have been around nightmares or before bed, right?” Pete said, and Patrick nodded. “Well, I mean. Maybe that's just your body saying we're moving too fast.”

“But I want you so bad, and if I can't even make out with you then why would you even.” Patrick shut his eyes, the frustration obvious on his face. “I believe in monogamy, Pete. That's what I want, but I understand if maybe you want to see other people instead.”

“What are you even talking about?” Pete laughed, watching Patrick's miserable face. Hearing that kind of absurdity made something click in Pete’s head.

“This isn't exactly what you signed up for.”

“Isn't it? We might not have the most normal of relationships right now, but that's to be expected and I can wait without sticking my dick in anyone else. I'm a new version of Pete, remember?” he smiled when relief flooded Patrick's face. “And I'm guessing you got triggered because I was laying on top of you on a couch, the same as what was happening that night?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, fine, we won't do it that way, not until the day you feel comfortable.” Pete thought that sounded pretty romantic, but Patrick didn't look all that happy.

“So we can't even make out anymore?”

“We've made out in bed before and that didn't trigger you. I think it was the first time I laid fully on top of you so I think that might be part of the issue. You know that you're going to have flashbacks, that's something we'll both have to accept, but we shouldn't put our life on hold because of it.”

“But it feels real. It's like it's happening again and again. I can smell his cologne, I can feel his hands weighing me down.” Patrick shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Thanks for getting me through the other side.”

“Just remember the lyric, that seemed to help.” Pete took Patrick's hand and kissed his knuckles. “You should straddle me.”

“What?” Patrick's eyes bulged as if he hadn't ever heard anything like it. When Pete tugged on his wrist he went with the motions though, sliding his knees either side of Pete’s thighs. He laughed awkwardly as his arms slid over Pete’s shoulders, but it was a great feeling. Pete could feel Patrick's warm body settle over his lap and it was better than anything else. Better than anything he'd felt with anyone in years. 

“If we kiss like this, then you're in control,” Pete said, lifting his head to stare at Patrick. Patrick looked like he hadn't spent much time straddling men in the past, his body hovering awkwardly over Pete's. “Plus this is totally hot.”

“Is it?” Patrick laughed, but he soon settled down. their lips touching softly as Patrick's body relaxed on top of his. Patrick had a thing for his stomach being touched so he pressed over it lightly as they kissed. Pete was half waiting for panic to take over, but when it didn't, he pulled away and simply stroked the side of Patrick's face. 

“This is better, right?” he said. Now that they weren't kissing his cut lip throbbed slightly, but he didn't care. Not when he had Patrick sprawled over him.

“Much better.” Patrick smiled, leaning in again.


	2. Chapter 2

They tell their parents over email because it’s easier than dealing with fussing mothers and awkward dads. By that point there’s no one really left to tell. Later on, maybe, but everyone that deserved to know now did. Patrick didn't have any more notable flashbacks, but he did have moments where he didn't like being touched and flinched back whenever Pete came close.

“Have you heard anymore from Brendon?” Patrick asked a few days later. He'd been out all day with some friends who had been ignored for the best part of six months. He looked pretty exhausted by it all when he came back around, but Pete was hardly going to bring attention to it. He seemed happy and way more put together than he had been in months.

“Not really,” Pete admitted. “I didn't think he took it too bad, but I guess I am pretty inattentive to feelings when they don't include my own.”

“I'm aware of that.” Patrick gave Pete a _look._ “If Panic are planning on releasing something soon I guess you'll hear from him eventually. Just give him space.”

“It just seemed to spring out of nowhere.” Pete wanted to have the conversation now that Patrick had brought it up. Patrick's legs were in his lap and he stroked over his shins as he thought about everything. “Like, I swear it was just a hook up thing, you know? Something casual for both of us and then suddenly he's in love with me too?”

“I'm sure it isn't easy for him,” Patrick said, and Pete did feel pretty bad. Maybe he should save this kind of conversation for therapy. He knew Patrick had issues with Brendon now. “Plus people's feelings can develop and change. Look at you and me.”

“Oh yeah.” Pete started to laugh, squeezing Patrick's ankle lightly. “I wish I'd seen it... how you felt about me.”

“Why? It wouldn't have made a difference. It wouldn't have made you love me and it wouldn't have made me happy anyway.”

Pete didn't get it. “Why wouldn't it have made you happy?”

“Because I didn’t want you to know and I didn't want to feel that way about it. I don't wanna hurt your feelings, but you were a shitty boyfriend to every girl you were ever with. You were a great friend to me and I kinda hated that I wanted to trade it for something that I knew would get me hurt.”

“You're glad we waited until now?” Pete had a ton of problems with it that hadn't gone away. All he thinks is if he had known, then so much would have been different. They could have had this without any of the trauma and flashbacks and everything else that Patrick had to deal with. Pete had a lot of anger about it really, but he knew to hold his tongue around Patrick.

“I'm at peace with it, yeah.” Patrick smiled, leaning over to draw his fingers down Pete’s cheek. “I know that I come with so much more baggage now and I'm sorry that it's interfering with our relationship, but I can't stop it.”

“No, don't blame yourself.” Pete suddenly felt really bad that he'd started the conversation. “I know it's better we waited. We're both in a better place now. It's just frustrating knowing I hurt you for so long.”

“Don't worry about it, Pete, really. It's all fine now. You shouldn't take all the blame. It wasn't like I was any better. My self esteem was nonexistent and it was pretty poisonous, I pushed away a lot of people.”

“But you're better from all that now?”

“I looked as good as I ever had when I went solo but I failed more than at any other point,” Patrick said, not looking upset. He was finally healing from what happened during his solo career. It had taken a backseat during everything else that had happened. “Self esteem is never going to be my strongest point, but it's not like it was.”

“I always hid my self esteem behind tight pants and eyeliner,” Pete said, watching Patrick grimace like he was remembering Pete’s clothing choices in vivid clarity. They'd both been adept at making bad choices. 

 

Pete's next scheduled freak out was surrounding his presenting role in Best Ink. It was giving him pretty bad anxiety; he'd never done presenting on a professional scale before and it was freaking him out. The show he'd done on MTV had been different, with an audience that he knew how to play.

“I'm pretty sure you're just the eye candy for the viewer anyway,” Patrick said, grabbing the script when he found Pete worrying about it in his office. The thought of having to read lines in front of a bunch of people he didn't know was setting off some crazy nerves inside. “Just pretend it's like an award show.”

“No, that doesn't help.” Pete was pouting, watching Patrick sit on his desk. “Maybe I'll just quit and they can get the other presenter back.”

Patrick clearly didn't think that was a good idea by looking at his face, although he did stand from the desk and plant himself in Pete’s lap instead. Pete’s arms immediately sunk around his waist, sucking in the warmth from Patrick's body.

“You should do it, it'll be fun.” Patrick twisted so that he could wrap an arm over Pete’s shoulders. He lent in for a kiss and Pete quickly deepened it, craving some affection. Patrick went with it, legs awkwardly twisted over the arm of the chair, hands in Pete’s hair. The chair was pretty precarious, but Pete tried his best to keep them balanced.

“I'll do it if you promise to sit in my lap more often. This is working out for me,” Pete joked as they caught their breath. “This is good, right?”

“Yeah,” Patrick laughed breathlessly. “Like you even need to ask.” His hands trailed to Pete’s mouth and then to his neck as he left another kiss on him. “If you take the job I'll even come and visit you in your trailer.”

“Oh yeah? What you gonna do?” Pete asked, fingers sliding over Patrick's tailbone.

“Haven't thought that far ahead yet,” Patrick admitted. “But something good, I promise.”

“I'll hold you to that.” Pete pushed Patrick's hair back, looking at his face. He still couldn't believe it took him so long to work this all out.

 

Pete started to hate himself a little bit with how impatience was creeping into his mindset though. It's not like he wanted to rush Patrick, but sometimes they'd be making out for a good while and be ready to turn it up a little and Patrick would just stop and roll away. He felt like an asshole ranting about it with Joanna, but he didn't have anyone else to say this shit to.

“It's just, like, I've been having sex regularly since I was about fifteen and so to just stop cold turkey is really hard. It's not like I'm gonna go and seek it out with someone else because I want to be with Patrick, but it's getting to me a little bit.”

“Have you told Patrick this?”

_“No._ The last thing I want to do is pressure him. I want to have sex with him. It's him I want, but it's hard restraining myself and I'm scared about hurting him or making him feel like he has to do things a certain way.” Pete didn't really hide much from Joanna, he'd paid her way too much over the years, but it was still pretty awkward trying to word the next part. “I wouldn't say I'm involved in, like, BDSM, but I do like rough sex. I'm dominant in bed and it's what I'm always like, but that's not going to be what he likes.”

“How do you know that if you don't explain it to him?”

“I don't wanna scare him off? We spoke about it once months ago before we got together and he was uncomfortable with it. I don't know. The last thing I want is to remind him of the men that hurt him.”

“Pete, you're not going to resolve these issues with Patrick if you don't talk to him. It won't be easy, but talk it out with each other. Ask him what he likes or sees himself doing, talk about limits. You'll feel better for it.”

“He's never had gay sex before, I know that much. Aside from the rape, but he said we shouldn't call it sex.” Patrick didn't actually talk to Pete too much about his feelings regarding what happened these days. He had his support group and therapy for that and it was better that way. It gave them more of a chance to be friends and, well, lovers in a way, without the baggage of dealing with residual emotions left over from the attack. Or so Patrick had told him.

“I think it would be wise to open the conversation to put both your minds at rest. This is probably affecting him too,” she told him and he nodded his head. She did have a point, but she usually did.

Patrick was looking after Bronx in the playroom when Pete got back from therapy. They both smiled up at him and Pete picked his kid up when he came blundering over. They spent the rest of the day hanging out, playing with whatever Bronx wanted them to before it was time to take him back to Ashlee's.

He told Patrick they were going on a date later that night. It wasn't something they did really. From Pete's assessment, dates were about getting to know someone and he knew everything about Patrick, or at least 85% of him. There hadn't been any point in taking him bowling to get to know him because he knows Patrick's bad at it anyway.

But there was this cute little seafood restaurant and they could take a romantic stroll along the beach afterward. Maybe that would be a good time to have the talk. He wasn't sure. He didn't really care because Patrick looked mega cute in his little button down.

“You know, I always knew you were cute but I never had signals going off in my head about it. There's like little party poppers and streamers in my head now, whenever I see you dress up,” Pete said, as they sat in the restaurant. Patrick gave him a bemused look, like he didn't know how to respond. “I think I still saw you as that kid from the past for years and that's why I never allowed myself to feel anything else. At least that's what I'm telling myself.”

“It's okay,” Patrick said. His ears were going pink though, and more poppers went off in Pete’s head. _Cute!_ “I dunno if I'd ever use cute to describe you, but I think you look nice too. Hot, I dunno.”

“You don't know if you find me hot?” Pete laughed, watching Patrick turn pink and awkward. He took a sip of his beer, enjoying Patrick's flustering.

“It's just not a part of my vocabulary!” Patrick held his hands up in defeat. “I'm not the kind of person to go around saying people are hot.”

“But you think I am?” Pete asked, enjoying the way Patrick was kind of squirming.

“Yeah, I do.” Patrick was definitely more comfortable out and about now. There were none of the panic attacks that he'd had right at the beginning. He was still so much more reserved now, and the restaurant they were in was certainly far more quiet than if it was Saturday night, but the improvement was there. Pete could see it clear.

He was eating better too. Never very much at one time, but it was more than just sugary milkshakes. There was improvement in every way and Pete wanted to take at least some of the credit. Patrick finished his plate of spicy crayfish not too long after Pete had inhaled his sea bass. He had a blush on his cheeks, which was more to do with the heat of the room than embarrassment, but Pete liked it all the same.

They never did have the conversation on the beach like Pete wanted. They walked it, holding hands, but it didn't seem right. Pete felt drunk even though he'd only had two beers and he was still stuck on how goddamn cute Patrick was. They held hands and bumped shoulders in mostly silence until they headed back to the car.

Pete had to sit firmly on his hands as Patrick showered that night. He wanted to drop his clothes and head into the bathroom. Seek out Patrick's wet body. He wanted to know the exact pitch of Patrick's voice as Pete slid inside him. Patrick had always been private in the past, but Pete could just tell he'd be loud in bed. He wanted to be the one making Patrick gasp and cry out, wanted to take him past that point. Pete was so good at that, making people come.

He couldn't though. Because showers were part of Patrick's routine and routine was important. He'd curbed his obsession somewhat and now only showered in the morning and night, but they were his time alone, his time to reflect or whatever. He didn't need Pete in there, freaking him out.

When Patrick did come out of the bathroom, he was wearing his pajama pants and one of Pete's old shirts. He sat beside Pete on the end of the bed and kissed his shoulder. Patrick was warm beside him, slightly damp still because he never dried himself off properly and Pete so badly wanted to do terribly hot things for him.

“I'm gonna have a shower!” Pete hopped up from the bed, before he got any weirder with his comments. He jerked off in the shower, trying to keep his mind pure and blank, but it didn't work. Everything always went back to Patrick. He came with the image of Patrick on his knees, his mouth wrapped around Pete’s cock. He let his breathing calm down before he switched the water off and wrapped a towel around his waist. He tried not to feel bad about what he'd just done. Patrick was his boyfriend, surely he was allowed to fantasize about him.

Patrick was reading some paperback when Pete came back into the room. He always looks slightly grumpy as he read, his glasses sliding down his nose, but he smiled at Pete as he pulled on boxers and flopped onto the bed. 

“Thanks for going out on a date with me,” Pete said, trying to read the back of the book. It looked boring. “There was something I wanted to say, but I was too chicken to.”

“Uh-huh.” Patrick read to what was presumably the end of the page and then closed it, looking at Pete. “What about?”

“Sex.” It sounded dumb saying it aloud. Pete was always the type to just _do_ and think later, but that didn't really seem appropriate now. He knew it wasn't. “I've put off talking about it with you because, um, this is all so new, but Joanna said we really do need to talk about it.”

“Lori said the same,” Patrick admitted. He laid back, his mouth opening and closing a little. Pete watched him, head propped on his elbow. “We've been talking about my fears a lot and it's one of them.”

“You're afraid of sex?” Pete said, not really surprised but it was upsetting to hear Patrick say so anyway. 

“It's more like my reaction. Having that flashback. I know they're inevitable, but I feel like I just know I'm going to get one at the worst moment.” Patrick scratched the side of his jaw, showing how uncomfortable he was. “Plus I haven't ever done it with a man with consent and I'm not sure I could do it the way you like.”

“How do you mean?” Pete asked because he wanted all of Patrick's feelings out there before he exposed his own. Patrick gave him a sideways look though. 

“I think I'd probably have a leniency towards submissiveness in the bedroom, but not… I couldn't do the whole Dom/sub thing. It makes me feel sick right now.”

“I would never put you in that kind of position, Patrick. It is something I've done in the past, but it's not a deal breaker for me. We can find other ways to enjoy each other.” It was generally a thing he did with dudes; with one night stands.

“Are you sure?” Patrick gave a serious expression and Pete had to laugh, leaning down to kiss Patrick. 

“Sure am. Okay, Joanna said something about telling each other our limits. I'll tell you one, then you tell me another.” He waited for Patrick to nod his head before continuing. “Alright, well, uh. I only top. I don't bottom, not at all. I mean, I did it three times with three different dudes and that's why I know I'm a top, like 100%. Don't like it at all.” Pete pulled a face at the thought. It's one of the reasons why he only had long term relationships with women; there hadn't been any expectations on him to switch. 

“So when we have sex I'd be on the bottom?” Patrick said, and Pete went to find a bumbling excuse about how they don't ever even have to have penetrative sex if it upsets him, but Patrick started to talk again. “That sounds like something I'd want. Not yet, it'll be a while, but I want that. I really want that.”

“Say it,” Pete said suddenly. “Can you just say it aloud so I can fantasize for a bit?”

Patrick hesitated, mouth hanging open before speaking. “I want to have you inside me. Any way you want it.”

“Any way _you_ want it,” Pete repeated for emphasis. It seemed integral that Patrick remember it was about him too. “Shit, I kept thinking about the noises you'd make earlier. I can't wait to hear them.” Patrick started to laugh nervously and Pete came out of his head for the time being. “Sorry, yeah. Okay. So I've given you a limit now one from you.”

Patrick nodded his head seriously. “Alright, I have thought about this one and I don't know why, but I just can't physically bring myself round to the idea of blow jobs. Giving them, I don't know. I used to love the idea, but after what happened...”

“You were forced to do it, though.”

“I was forced into anal sex but that's something I want to do in the future. It's always supposed to be such a lesser thing too, right? But the thought of it makes me feel so sick.”

“Then we won't do that. It's a fair trade. I won't bottom and you don't suck dick.” Pete held his hand out so they could shake on it. “I feel better for shaking on it.”

“Yeah, same.” Patrick kissed Pete, leaning up to do so. “Can't believe you're a power top though. Such a macho move.”

“Why not?” Pete asked, seeing Patrick descend into laughter. Looking at himself, deep down, he could see why Patrick found it so funny. “I'm an awesome top, you won't be disappointed.”

“Promise?” Patrick asked coyly, biting his lip as he stopped laughing. Pete felt any kind of tension that had gathered around their intimacy issues fade with the laughter. 

“Don't even need to promise. I'll look after you, I swear. You know what, I'm not gonna rush you at all, but when you are ready just say the word and I swear to God, I will book a romantic as shit vacation and we can spend the entire time in bed making sure you have the best time ever.” 

“That's sweet. Thank you,” Patrick said softly. He looked so squishy that Pete hand to press a kiss to each cheek before falling on the bed beside. “Can we like, postpone the rest of this conversation for now though? I'm pretty beat and this has been way too awkward.”

“Absolutely. I'm happy. I'm really fucking happy.” Pete couldn't stop smiling, even as he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Andy came for another visit. He never used to bother this much before Patrick arrived, but it was good having him around. He knew how to put up with them both and he walked Baloo whenever Pete couldn't be bothered. 

“Have you guys had the conversation about FOB?” Andy asked one afternoon. Patrick was out on a social event with his support group and Pete was sitting with his laptop on his lap, reading up on sex after rape. 

“Not yet. I think we've both thought about it and we've written a fair bit, but uh, I kinda want to deal with sex first before then.” Pete scanned the page before looking up at Andy. He looked like he wished Pete wouldn't divulge this kind of stuff to him. “All sources online suggest Tantric would be a good option for us, but can you imagine us doing that?”

“I'd really rather not,” Andy admitted, smiling when Baloo bounded up onto his lap. “So you're still not doing it then?”

“Not really. We've talked about it a little, but I don't know. I think even if he hadn't been hurt it would still be weird, you know? Being friends for years and then suddenly getting intimate. We talked basics, but not about actual kinks.”

“Please keep it clean, man,” Andy said, rubbing a hand over his face. Pete shut the lid of his laptop and nodded his head. 

“We've both got some big no no’s, but it's awkward because I think I need to take the initiative here and move things forward because I don't think he will, but I also don't wanna trigger him. Feels like a tightrope and I wanna be prepared.”

“You can't rush him if he isn't ready,” Andy warned but Pete was shaking his head. 

“I'm not. I know he isn't ready for the whole fucking business, but I think we can probably move past kissing with our clothes on. Even though it's really hot when he sits on my lap and--”

“Yeah okay, that's enough of that,” Andy said, though his face softened when Pete frowned. “No, I'm happy for you guys, but it is weird seeing you two together.”

“Well if we ever do get the band back together, you'll have to deal with us. Though I somehow feel you won't be the problem.”

“Joe's not averse to you guys together. He's gonna come around, it's just gonna take a while. What happened to Patrick really knocked him.”

“I know.” Pete didn't say anything else. He wondered whether he should've been more supportive to Joe, but all of his strength went to Patrick during the hardest months. He barely had enough space in his head to look after himself at that point. 

Patrick came back a few hours later with a dinner plate he'd painted with his group during their outing. It was kinda hilarious trying to imagine Patrick sitting in one of those little arty shops, painting himself a plate. Pete tried not to tease him too much about it, he just laughed behind his hand until Patrick flipped him off.

 

When Andy was tucked up in the guest room that night, Pete had his hands up the back of Patrick's shirt in their bedroom.

“How about we make out, only naked?” Pete said. Patrick was astride him, lips bruised pink from how they were kissing. 

“Sounds like you're tryna get in my pants,” Patrick said, but he was lifting his shirt up, letting it drop to the bed beside him. Pete ran a hand up his bare chest, his hand dark against the paleness of Patrick.

“Is that a bad thing?” Pete asked and Patrick shook his head. “No, I'm just moving things along. But not too fast.” Patrick had always had the softest hips, even now when he was probably as thin as Pete had known him. They were a little doughy and Pete's fingertips dug deep into flesh. He slid his hands higher, until they brushed Patrick's pink nipples. 

“I don't know how this is hot,” Patrick said suddenly, as Pete ogled him. “I dunno. I'm having a hard time with this. Sorry.”

“What about?” Pete asked, trying really hard not to be disappointed. Maybe things had been going too smoothly. “Being naked in front of me?”

“Not exactly, I mean, I've been naked in front of you plenty of times it's just. I don't see how you could want this.” Patrick waved at his body. “I can't look at myself because I see what they saw and I guess it's just... You see what they saw and you still want me and I don't get it. Sometimes it makes me feel sick.”

“It makes you angry knowing that I'm attracted to you?” Pete said and boy, this was one of those moments where he felt totally over his head in shit he didn't understand. 

“Not angry. Just confused. I don't know.” Patrick was still straddling Pete, but his hands were now folded over his face and he groaned into them. “I didn't think it would be this hard. I thought if we got together it would be easier, that everything would just slide into place.”

“I know, right?” Pete laughed, rubbing his hands up and down Patrick's sides. He didn't make a joke out of Patrick's awkward comment and instead patted his ass lightly. “Come on, roll over and I'll spoon you. We're good at that.”

“Practically experts.” Patrick did as he was told, wriggling back into Pete. Sometimes it was like Patrick was made of memory foam and Pete sunk into his body from behind, his hand resting on Patrick's belly. 

“We can try again tomorrow or the next day or even a month from now, alright? We'll find something that works.” Pete believed his own words, even if Patrick needed more convincing. “Plus we can still do kissing. I haven't kissed nearly all the parts of your body that I want to. You need to let me. Let me kiss you everywhere.”

“That does sound nice,” Patrick said softly, rising from his disappointment. “I like it when we kiss.”

“That's because you're a big softie,” Pete said, but his eyes were closing as he breathed in the scent of Patrick, his fingers sliding over his soft stomach.

 

Andy managed to talk Pete into some gym time the next day and it was a way to work off some of the sexual frustration. He wasn't really in the mood for working out. Pete was mad because Brendon had text his usual casual _I'm in the normal spot_ and so he was raging to Andy about it, instead of spotting him like a good gym buddy.

“You know, I just expected better from him. That's all,” Pete said, patting Andy's knee when he presumed he was good to get up. “He knows I'm with Patrick now.”

Andy took a deep breath as he sat up. “But you guys have hooked up a lot over the years. It didn't bother you before.”

“I specified it was monogamous with Patrick. I think I'm just pissed because I'm getting nothing. I'm being patient with Patrick I swear, but it is _hard, Andy_. I'm hard.” Andy looked as if he regretted even inviting Pete along at that comment. “Old me probably would have gone with Brendon,” Pete added and then something clicked in Pete's head. “I think I get it now. Why Patrick hated his feelings for me. What do a buy him to make up for it?”

“A guitar? Two guitars?” Andy joked. “What's he up to today?”

“He's working in the studio with some band, but he's got therapy tonight so he'll probably be a little withdrawn.”

“At least he's working.”

“Yeah, I don't know how he feels about working on FOB shit for serious. I think he'd be down for recording maybe, but I dunno about the shit that goes with it. He was burnt real bad by his solo shit. Not that I should talk for him,” Pete said. “According to his support group I talk over him too much. I've only met the motherfuckers a few times, but that's what they told Patrick.”

“It''s good he has people in his corner that aren't you,” Andy said diplomatic as ever, but his rest was over as he laid back down on the bench and Pete attempted to spot him again.

Andy made himself scarce that night, probably because he knew that the nights Patrick had therapy were kind of like a skewed date night for them. Pete was finding a DVD, the champagne on the coffee table. He went for High Fidelity because he hadn't seen it in forever and then climbed the stairs to the bedroom to check on Patrick.

Patrick was in the bath, wiggling his toes until he stared at Pete. “Oh hey, Pete. Andy text me saying you were kinda manic today. You alright?”

“So much for confidentiality.” Pete sat with his back to the tub, Patrick's wet fingers combing through his hair. “No, I'm alright. Highly strung, but that's just me. How was your day?”

“Good. I missed being in the studio. Therapy was alright too. It's better now it's less focused on the attack.” Patrick's nails trailed softly down the side of Pete's neck. It tickled, but in a good way. “You wanna get in?” 

Pete lifted his head, unsure he heard correctly. Patrick nodded and lifted his hand to wiggle his finger at Pete. He didn't need asking twice and started to tug his clothes off, leaving them all in a pile on the floor as he stepped into the bathtub opposite Patrick. 

He had never been more thankful to buy a house with a tub large enough to house them both. It was a square shaped Jacuzzi. Pete wasn't focused on it, only that he was naked in it with Patrick. 

“I picked out _High Fidelity_ to watch, but I guess that's done with for the night?” Pete said, watching Patrick's face. His hair was dark from the water and pushed back from his face. He didn't really look like Patrick like this, it was weird.

“We could still have the champagne,” Patrick answered softly. 

“That would mean leaving the bath and that’s a no.” Patrick’s ankle brushed Pete's beneath the bubbles and Pete couldn’t help sinking a hand beneath the water, chasing Patrick's movements. He wrapped his fingers around the closest thigh, sinking his fingers into the soft flesh. “You really want me to get out now?”

“Not really.” Patrick looked away coyly. His eyes were soft, blinking slow, his cheeks pinking up. They didn't do much for a long while. Pete just stroked Patrick's thigh beneath the water and Patrick just stared at Pete a little softly, his hair stuck to his forehead. 

Then Patrick sat up, half smothered in thick foamy bubbles as he crawled on his knees toward Pete. He hesitated for only a second before lowering himself over Pete, arms sliding over Pete's shoulders, hair flopping over his eyes. 

“Oh hello.” Pete laughed in the back of his throat, hands sliding wetly over Patrick's skin. 

“Hi.” Patrick's dick nudged against Pete's stomach as he sat down over his lap. It had been so long since Pete had been intimate _like this_ that his own dick hardened quickly with Patrick in his lap. “This is new, right?”

“This is amazing.” Pete couldn't stop moving his hands over Patrick's lower back, sliding down gently over Patrick's ass. He waited, to see if it stirred anything not so good, but all Patrick did was slam his hands to Pete's face and kiss him hard. 

Water swished over the bath tub as they kissed. Pete pulled Patrick as close as possible, pulling his knees up so Patrick could rest against them. They were pressed naked and wet; skin on skin. 

Patrick's own hands were wandering, across Pete's jaw, down over his chest, brushing his nipples, before rising back into his hair again. They stayed that way until the water turned tepid, until their skin started to prune up. Pete didn't want to get out, not when Patrick was so heady and hard against him. 

“We can take this to the bedroom,” Patrick said. His voice was deliciously husky and Pete wanted to drink it up. Instead he rubbed his thumb against Patrick's swollen lips, not ever wanting to forget it. 

“I can go get the champagne?” Pete said and Patrick laughed loud enough that it echoed around the bathroom. 

When Patrick slid off his lap, Pete took it as his chance to hop it out the bath. He didn't say anything about how Patrick's eyes zoned directly onto his dick and just grabbed a towel as he headed out of the bathroom. 

Wherever Andy was hiding for the night, he did it well because Pete didn't spot him on his jaunt across his house, a towel over his shoulders. He found the champagne on the coffee table and grabbed it along with two mugs before heading back to the bedroom. 

Patrick had something playing in the docking station, R&B that Pete didn't recognize, but it was fine, he didn't really care because Patrick was laying naked on the bed, fingers tracing up and down his thighs. It was a fucking awesome sight. 

“I got the booze, you got the tunes,” Pete said, falling on the bed once he'd poured the champagne. Patrick took a sip of champagne from his mug, staring at Pete over the rim. Pete was desperately trying to keep up the atmosphere, not wanting it to fall into anything weird or awkward. 

“What do you want?” Pete said, taking a large gulp of his own drink before placing it on the side. He laid a hand on Patrick's bent knee, feeling heat flood to his cheeks when Patrick's eyes met his. 

“You.” Patrick moved his own mug out of view, linking his hands over Pete's. “Show me what I'll like.” That felt like too much responsibility considering Patrick's reaction to a simple making out weeks back, but if Patrick needed Pete to take the lead, then he'd do it. 

“Okay so, like, green is good, amber is sort of nice but you're not sure, and red means I won't touch you there again.” Pete stroked gentle fingers over Patrick's thigh, waiting on his word. 

“Like, green,” Patrick said, sounding slightly unsure about Pete's idea.

“This is just to get a feel of things,” Pete said. “Just go with it.” He moved his hand up Patrick's thigh, fingernails lightly brushing Patrick's sensitive skin, scratching his lower belly. Patrick let slip a soft gasp, his body twitching. 

“Big green,” he laughed. Pete didn't go for his dick, or anywhere near his ass, but he went higher up. Patrick's nipples peaked the moment Pete's thumbnail caught either one, but he went to amber near his shoulder. “Not my neck. I can't deal with that.”

“Sure.” Pete wouldn't ever forget the bruises Patrick had wrapped around his throat when he came out of the hospital. That didn't need explaining at all. Patrick's arms were also more amber and red, but Pete didn't want to pontificate. He just wanted to make it good for Patrick. Thighs and stomach were a good point and he didn't have to leave any weight on him like this. 

This was new to Pete. Sex with men had always been more of a gratification thing than anything else. It was always tough and hard and a way to get high. He wasn't one for taking it slow, but he found himself really pushing through it with Patrick. He kissed Patrick's thighs slowly, not using his teeth at all, his hands lightly holding his hips down, never too hard, but just enough to control Patrick's movements. 

He licked and nipped gently at Patrick's lower stomach, dipping his tongue into Patrick's bellybutton and swirling it around, just to hear the giggle gasp that Patrick let slip. His legs fell apart and his hands touched Pete's shoulders. 

“Please touch me,” Patrick said, skin dampening beneath Pete. He was a sweaty mess, but it was so hot to Pete, knowing he was doing this. 

“I can touch wherever you ask,” Pete teased, tongue curling over one of Patrick's hipbones. His legs were still bent and Pete had one dangling over his shoulder, the other splayed outwards. 

“Uh. Just make it good, please, please.” Oh god. Patrick was a beggar. Shit, Pete loved the idea of it as it unfolded in front of him. 

Patrick was hard with only a few gentle strokes to his dick. Pete was surprised it was okay; morning wood had upset him in the past. When Patrick started to writhe as Pete slowly stroked him, one hand still pressing to his belly, Pete dipped his head low and sucked at Patrick's dick. Patrick became a blabbering mess, gasping under Pete's mouth, his hands pushing at Pete’s hair, at his own belly. When he started to groan louder, Pete pulled away, kissing at Patrick’s stomach, nipping and grazing the sensitive skin, his hand still moving over Patrick’s dick until he started to come. 

Pete was hard and leaking against the bed, turned on from having Patrick come apart so easily under his touch. He’d tried to be gentle and it had worked; Patrick had come without any fear or wobbly moments. Pete climbed up the bed, until their heads were touching as he sprawled shoulder to shoulder with Patrick.

“Show me how to return the favor,” Patrick said softly. When Pete tilted his head to look at him, Patrick's hair was scruffy and half wet, his cheeks pink and eyes bright. It wouldn’t take much for Pete to come, they’d been holding off so long. Just staring at Patrick's post-orgasm face was helping a lot.

“Climb on top,” Pete said, holding his dick tightly. Patrick straddled him clumsily, looking eager but a little unsure. Past the whole rape ordeal, Pete tried to keep in mind that Patrick hadn’t ever been with a man before; this was all new. 

Pete shifted Patrick on his lap, so that he was leaning down over Pete. Patrick's inner thigh dragged over Pete’s cock, causing a slick friction that had Pete bucking up. It was awkward at first, but they fell into making out gently, Patrick's hand curling around Pete’s cock. Pete chanced a hand against Patrick’s ass and he didn’t flinch from it at all, it helped Pete shift Patrick’s weight slightly, so the hand-job was a little more controlled. It wasn’t the most intense sex Pete had ever had, but he hadn’t expected it to be.

“One day,” Patrick started to say, thumb swiping over the head of Pete’s dick, mouth pressing just below Pete's lip. “One day I want you to come inside me.”

“Fuck.” Pete lost it before he knew what was happening. Patrick’s words had a trigger effect on Pete’s dick and he came between Patrick’s fingers, Patrick's ass filling the palms of his hands. All of the stress and strain left Pete’s body as they laid there, trying to catch their breath. Patrick rolled from on top of him, to the bed beside him.

“I'm super happy everything is green waist down,” Pete said when he could find his voice. Patrick laughed breathlessly, rolling onto his side to face Pete. It was hard to look away from his face when Pete now knew all the ways he looked when he came. 

“Yeah, that was good. Sorry if I was awkward. Never done anything like that with a man before. I didn't really know how to get you off.”

“Hand-job was good, so was the talking,” Pete said. “It's okay, I think it's new for both of us. I've never really been, like, gentle with dudes before. Never really taken the time.”

“Why not?” Patrick sat up, hitching himself up on his elbow as he stared down at Pete.

“It's just about sex with guys, normally. Getting myself off. I've never really been in love with one before you. As new as it is to you, it kind of is to me too.” Pete tilted his head to look at Patrick, who fell down again and curled himself up over Pete’s side. 

“I was a little worried when you said you only topped because I thought it meant...I dunno. I thought it meant I would have to put myself in a position that I was scared of, but it doesn't feel that way. I'm looking forward to, like, going further.”

“One step at a time. We'll build up to it,” Pete said, stroking his hand down Patrick's spine. 

 

The next day things seemed even better. Patrick was more than affectionate, kissing Pete as they woke up, and even more as they had their coffee on the porch. They ended up making out a little more, Pete’s hand worming it's way to Patrick's stomach, after last night's realization that it was such a hot zone for him. 

They pulled away when there was a cough; Andy stood in front of them with his own mug. Patrick laughed nervously, grabbing at his coffee and wandering off inside as Andy sat beside Pete.

“Yeah, okay. That is pretty weird to see. I won't lie,” Andy said after a few seconds. Pete shrugged, feeling so impossibly light from lack of tension that he couldn't really care. Finally they'd started to move onto more than just soft make out sessions. 

“We basically just had sex last night. It was awesome, Andy,” Pete admitted, because he felt like he had to tell someone. Andy gave a plain look, without revealing too many hidden emotions.

“Right, okay.” Andy nodded his head, taking it in his stride. “Patrick was okay?”

“He was awesome.” Pete was gurning so he tried to reign it in somewhat. “I took it slow with him, didn't do anything too out there, but he totally loved it. We just fucking got a billion times more intimate last night and I still feel it now.”

“I'm happy for you. Especially after yesterday. You were saying some wild shit at the gym.”

“Blue balls do that to a guy, but not anymore. I've had my R&R, I'm ready for anything.” Pete drained his drink and stood up, feeling like a new guy and ready to face anything.

He maybe wasn't ready to deal with the phone call that night. Andy had left for good again and Patrick was out having dinner with some friends. Pete was trying to deal with watching bad movies on his own when he saw Joe's name pop up on his phone. They hadn't spoken really. He'd heard Patrick on the phone with him at least once a week, but it just felt like a good idea to stay away.

“Has Patrick told you who raped him?” Joe asked flatly, without even a hello. Pete rubbed at his face, muting his TV as he focused on the shit Joe wanted to throw at him.

“No, he hasn't. I don't think he wants to tell me. He's just trying to move on from it.”

“Yeah, but if he did tell you, you'd tell me, right? You'd tell me who it was and we'd find them.” Joe's voice was almost frantic. It was off-putting when Pete was used to his old friend's slow, lispy drawl ordinarily.

Pete picked up where Joe was heading with it. “Andy would be our alibi.”

“I'm not joking, dude.”

“Me either.” Usually Pete was too busy dealing with the effect the attack had on Patrick to focus on the men that did it, but the anger was there for him too. “If he gives me a name I'll let you know.”

“Thanks.” There was a pause and Pete stared at the screen in front. He didn't want to mess it up, he hadn't spoken to Joe properly in months. “I mean, I've told Patrick I'm happy for you guys. I just find it hard imagining him being happy like this after what happened.”

“His feelings for me predate the attack. It took me a long ass time to find out my own feelings, but dude we're happy. He's happy and we're not gonna break up.” Pete knew he deserved to have to explain himself a little bit, but it didn't mean he was happy about it. Joe was always going to be judgmental and he had every right to judge Pete, but not based on any of his actions in the past six months. 

“You better not. I love him to bits, man, but I don't wanna fix his broken heart again.” Okay, so putting it that way, Pete felt like a giant ass for not seeing what he'd done for years. Like, more than before. “You can tell me you won't, but I'm just not cool with it yet. Not because I'm an asshole, but just--”

“No, I know why. You don't have to explain yourself.” Pete told himself he could take it. He wouldn't tell Patrick about it because he'd probably phone Joe in a rage saying he could make his own decisions and then Joe would phone Pete again and Andy would eventually intervene... it was known, but it didn't need to be discussed or brought up.

“I know it's shitty, but I see him like he was when we all stayed at yours and I swear it fucking haunts me, dude. I can't see past it because he's a brother to me and some motherfuckers hurt him and I can't push it aside like everyone else.” Joe's voice shook with emotion, not tears or even anger, but something was catching on his vocal chords and it wasn't pretty.

“We're not pushing it aside and it isn't forgotten, not at all, Joe. We can't let it control us though, you know? It happened to Patrick, but it's effected all of us in different ways, but as friends or lovers or whatever, we can't let it hold us back.” 

“Why did he take that guy home with him? Why did he let himself get involved in this shit.” Pete didn't have it in him to call Joe out when he was just voicing his irrational anger. “I just wished none of this had fucking happened to him and I feel like the only way I'll get peace is seeing the people that did it pay.”

“Don't put that on him, Joe. He didn't know he was dating a rapist, did he? I promise you buddy if he ever wants to give me names I'll let you know, but I'm not forcing the issue. We good?” Pete really wanted to end the conversation on a high, and he tried to chase it back onto a positive path. “You should come down and hang out some time.”

“Yeah, I will. I'm not good, but I'm getting there.” Joe hesitated for a moment. “Thanks for this. Patrick won't talk about it with me and I know why, but I needed someone.”

“I don't have any decent answers, but I'm hear to talk anytime,” Pete promised. His chest had lightened since the tail end of the conversation and Joe's breathing was smoother and more relaxed too. "Even if it's just to shout at me for dating Patrick some more.”

Joe laughed down the phone and Pete smiled at the sound. “Still not cool with it, sorry.”

Patrick got back an hour or so after Joe hung up. Pete heard him whistling through the house before he swung into the media room. He sat down next to Pete, fingers sliding around Pete’s wrist. It was such a familiar movement now, sort of like holding hands.

“Hey.” Pete cleared his throat, watching Patrick smile up at him dozily. “Joe and I kissed and made up earlier. We’re good again.”

“It’s only taken you how many months?” Patrick quirked his eyebrow, legs lifting to spread out in front of him. “What changed things?”

“Just talking out our priorities.” Pete didn’t need to explain it to Patrick. He could make up the answer himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm away traveling for the next month so I won't be able to update, but I'll be back early October. Sorry!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient while I was away, hope you enjoy :)

Over the next few weeks they were intimate together more frequently. Every time started with Pete touching Patrick’s body, asking him for a color. His bottom half generally stayed green, the backs of his knees being a bright spot to which Pete was nearly deafened by Patrick’s shout as his tongue licked at the warm crease. His arms though, were either amber or red, never straying from the two colors.

Pete focused on teasing Patrick to orgasm, usually with a mouth or hand over his dick, as well as teasing the skin of his belly. Patrick would do the same to Pete, sitting over him, whispering in his ear and jerking him with his hand. Afterward they would lay there, Patrick’s fingers wrapped over Pete’s wrist.

“I like being able to feel your pulse when I hold your wrist. It feels like something to anchor myself in the real world so I don’t fade away,” Patrick explained as they laid catching their breaths. This was so much slower than he’d ever taken things, but it gave Pete a chance to really take in and savor every new step in their relationship. 

“No, I get that,” Pete said. He enjoyed the feeling anyway, it cemented him too. “Why are your arms a no-go when it comes to touch though? Just, like, I don’t know why you’re so green with legs, but not arms. It’s not like I’m mad at you or anything. It’s just something I noticed.”

“I know you’re not mad at me,” Patrick laughed, but Pete didn’t join in. Patrick had pretty strong self-blame issues that revealed themselves in weird ways, including thinking Pete was upset at him for dumb shit. “My arms were held down and restrained the whole time. Even though I know it’s you touching me, sometimes I feel like it’s them. Like a brief flashback or something. I wanna get past it one day, but I dunno how.”

“I’m not rushing you,” Pete promised, even as he felt sleep threaten to take over his thoughts. “I just figured if I knew I might be able to understand why it’s such a no-go. And I do. It makes sense even if it’s devastating.”

“It’s just a part of my life now,” Patrick shrugged. Pete had his eyes shut, but he felt the movements. 

 

Pete found out that presenting _Best Ink_ was nowhere near as scary as he envisioned. He had his scripted lines to say and new people to hang out with, but then he got to sit in his trailer as they filmed the rest of the show. Joanna had given him the name of a book that he could read; about intimacy with a survivor, and he read it on his iPad; surprised that he actually enjoyed it. He wasn't sure whether to be grateful about the fact there was situations discussed that he related to. He just felt relieved that they weren’t in the situation that others were in, that Patrick could let him close enough for some forms of intimacy. 

Then Pete got around to thinking about what it would be like to get the band back together. He usually thought about it when he was shooting the show. Patrick was working a lot with a variety of bands in the studio and they'd written together a little more, though thankfully without any of the reactions that Death Valley had given. 

Getting back together would be awesome. Playing with Patrick, Joe and Andy onstage again, going home with Patrick afterward. It always felt _them vs the world_ on stage anyway, and even more-so recently having Patrick back in his life. He was nervous about talking about it with Patrick, he wasn't sure how into the idea he'd be.

 

That night Pete got home to candles lit in the bedroom and Patrick looking vaguely preoccupied as he shooed Pete up the stairs. 

“What's going on, dude?” Pete laughed, sitting on the bed as Patrick rounded the corner in loose clothes and hands on his hips. 

“Nothing serious, I just wanted to give you a treat.” Patrick blew his bangs out of his face, still looking flustered. When Pete gave a confused shrug, Patrick rolled his eyes. “Okay look, you always have to take the initiative for sex and you always... it's always about me. And then I read something about how giving massages is a good way to get accustomed to your body, or something. I dunno. It sounded like a good idea.”

“You sound nervous,” Pete pointed out. “Should I be?”

“No.” Patrick sat on the bed beside Pete. “I'm not nervous because I don't know what I'm doing. It's just because I can't seem to function in the bedroom without nerves anymore.” Patrick paused for a few seconds, downbeat, and how could he not be? Pete couldn't imagine how sucky it would be to freak out about everything to do with sex. “But anyway, I bought this flavored oil shit and so just take your shirt off and lay on your stomach.”

Pete did as he was told, removing his jeans too. It was pretty exciting having Patrick initiate something. Pete was so good at working out Patrick's feelings and emotions that he could tell when Patrick wanted sex. It just meant that he had to be the one to always start things.

He was a little apprehensive of a massage though. Patrick was clumsy and nervous in bed and didn't ever show an inclination toward massaging in the past, but whatever. It was Patrick running his hands up and down Pete’s body. He'd enjoy what he could.

Patrick moved in slow circles, hands slick with a strawberry scented oil. At first he stuck to Pete’s shoulders, massaging out the tension, his weight a nice feeling over Pete’s lower spine, but then his hands moved lower to Pete’s rib cage, sliding down over his sides and then back over his shoulders again. His tongue came out, to tease the back of Pete’s ear before he laughed and moved away. 

Okay, Pete was hard. This was hot. He had a mirrored closet to the side of the bed and he could see Patrick's reflection in it, how he was straddling Pete, back arched as he leaned over Pete's body. 

It was relaxing having Patrick slide oil over his body; smooth out the knots of his muscles. Patrick's hands were thin and pretty small for a dude, but his fingers were rough from years playing guitars onstage. It balanced it all out and when Patrick lifted off Pete, to tell him to roll over, Pete was openly turned on.

“Okay, so this is good,” Patrick laughed, staring at where Pete was hard to the front of his boxers. Patrick grabbed more of the oil and drizzled it between his hands before smoothing his palms over Pete’s stomach, up his chest and then down his arms. Patrick was hard too, but Pete had more fun looking at his face, flushed and serious, bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyelashes fluttering as he moved his hands over Pete’s body. 

Patrick's hand slowly moved lower, pulling Pete from his boxers. He trailed his hand through the coarse hair at the base of Pete's dick before curling his slick hand over Pete's cock. Pete kind of just went with it. He wasn't used to Patrick like this, jerking him off so precisely. His hips lifted as Patrick played with him between his hands. It was hot and it was over with too soon, Pete coming between Patrick's slick fingers. 

“You are one sexy little masseuse!” Pete said when he could. He felt completely relaxed from the massage, if a little sticky. He couldn't stop staring at Patrick, who was still turned on and looked a little surprised that things had gone as well as they had. He didn't even chide Pete for his comment and instead bit his lip a little hard, pushing his hair away from his face. Pete suddenly wanted to try something a little different for them. “Let me get you off?”

Patrick nodded immediately. Pete didn't bother with their green light game and instead gently rolled Patrick's sweatpants down, so that his dick and ass was on show. Patrick didn't stop him so Pete continued, gently smoothing his hand up and down Patrick's hips, using his other one to grab at the oil on the bed.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Pete said, watching Patrick watch his hand, just so he knew exactly what Pete would be doing. He didn't tell Pete to stop, but stroked his own dick in his hand.

“I don't,” Patrick said, even when his eyes turned cautious over Pete's slick fingers. Pete just rubbed smooth circles over Patrick's ass. He had a nice one; smooth, round and full for a guy that did no working out. Pete gave another look to their reflections, enjoying the sight of his hands slick and dark against Patrick's pale skin. 

Pete traced very gently across Patrick's skin, just smoothing over and over until he slowly traced between Patrick's legs. He touched lightly, feeling Patrick tense against his fingers, flinching slightly. Pete pulled away, stroking Patrick's spine and letting him calm down before trying again. 

He tried again and this time Patrick closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Pete's fingers pressed against his ass, slowly pushing in. 

“You wanna give me a color?” Pete asked, watching Patrick for any issue. 

“Green. Oh fuck.” Patrick's breathing started to hitch and Pete went to move his fingers out, not wanting to trigger Patrick, but Patrick shook his head, moving his own hand to halt Pete moving away. “Please, I want this. Just give me a moment.”

“You look so good, Patrick. Fuck. If I hadn't just come… _well_.” Pete was only teasing, but Patrick laughed anyway, still tight around Pete's fingers. 

Patrick leaned down, one hand still on his dick as he pushed his mouth on Pete's, wanting a kiss. It seemed to calm him slightly and Pete started to wiggle the fingers in Patrick's ass as well as stroking over the smooth curve of Patrick's upper thigh. 

“It’s just fire...It’s just you,” Patrick whispered. “Can you move a little now?” Pete did as he was told. Patrick pushed back onto the two fingers Pete had nudged inside, his hand squeezing tight to his own dick. It looked painful and Pete wanted to stop him hurting himself.

“Patrick calm down. Take your hand off your dick and touch my wrist, feel my pulse.” Pete waited until Patrick did as he was told before he took his free hand and wrapped his fingers gently around Patrick’s dick. He’d softened a little in his panic, but Pete was gentle, almost ticklish in his touch. “Let me make you feel good.”

Pete focused on Patrick’s dick at first, stroking him in slow long lengths, trying not to be corny by saying how hot he looked. Patrick was hard again in no time, thumb stroking gently over Pete’s wrist as he arched into Pete’s hand. It was only then that Pete started to move his fingers again, gently circling them inside Patrick, trying to find his prostate. 

“Oh fuck, okay.” Patrick pushed back into Pete’s hand when he did find it, and then rocked forward as Pete jerked a little rough at Patrick’s cock. He continued the pattern, feeling Patrick start to clench a little tighter around his fingers.

“You’re such a good boy,” Pete said and Patrick’s mouth slipped open, his eyes closing as he came. Pete jerked him through it, sliding his fingers out as Patrick rode out his orgasm. Patrick fell flat on his face, hiding it in Pete’s chest as he came down. Pete held him, thinking _wow_ we finally moved past a wall. 

“I’m gonna pretend that you calling me a good boy didn’t make me come,” Patrick muttered after a few moments. He rubbed his cheek against Pete’s oil-slick chest, fingers curling over Pete’s ribs. “Please don’t let that be a thing that turns me on.”

“Nothing wrong with that. It’s kinda hot that it gets you off,” Pete laughed even as Patrick halfheartedly slapped him. “No seriously, I'm glad we got past the wobbly part. I thought it was gonna go south for a moment.”

“No, I liked it. I _really_ liked it. Once I got past the freaking out, but you knew the shit to get me through it.” If he had the energy, Pete would puff his chest out in pride. He knew all the ways to help Patrick; to get him through flashbacks of all kinds. He felt like the best fucking boyfriend ever, albeit a sticky, strawberry scented one.

“Dude,” he said, stroking the back of Patrick’s head. “Dude, we need to shower. You used to much oil.”

“Whatever,” Patrick shrugged, cheeks a rosy pink as he sat up. Orgasms suited him like nothing else. “You love my masseuse skills.”

 

Pete was marathoning _Cake Boss_ in his trailer as he waited to be called back onto set when the door opened. Patrick's head popped in and Pete smiled in shock. He'd spent the last two days shooting for the show and he was ready to be done with it.

“What are you doing here?” Pete said, putting his tablet down as Patrick took a seat beside him on the couch.

“I finished in the studio early. Thought I'd pay you a visit,” Patrick shrugged, though his eyes lit up over the black tie Pete was wearing. He pulled on the tie gently, bringing Pete in for a quick kiss. “You don't dress this good normally. Is it from Wardrobe?”

“Dude, you've worn half my wardrobe. You can't complain,” Pete said. Patrick's hands had dropped the tie and were now resting over Pete’s chest.

“I only wear the t-shirts and not outside the house anymore.” Pete got another kiss. Patrick was clearly feeling affectionate today. Sometimes he couldn't handle too much touch, but Pete was fairly good at understanding when to stop himself. “How's it going here?”

“Boring, but I've been entertaining myself.” That came out totally wrong and so he wasn't surprised for the raised eyebrow and smirk he received. “Not like that. Hey, remember when I took this job on the pretense you'd come here and give me a treat in my trailer.”

“Yeah...” Patrick bit his lip, hands dropping from Pete's chest. “Uh. I don't know...what do you want?”

“It's up to you.” Pete frowned, trying to reign in his sensitivity toward Patrick. He brushed fingers through his hair until Patrick looked at him. “We don't have to do anything, Patrick. You just seemed like you wanted to go for it.”

“No, I do. It's just that the best thing right now would be to give you head, but I can't do that so I don't know what else to do.”

“It's fine,” Pete laughed, throwing his arm over Patrick's shoulder and bringing him in close. “You don't need to do anything. We can have fun later.” Patrick puffed against him, not sounding thrilled about that either.

Pete managed to coax Patrick into making out for a while. They'd become pretty good experts at it, so long as Pete didn't touch Patrick's neck or press him down onto the bed/couch wherever they were doing it. Patrick loosened up after a while, his frustration kissed away.

As Pete’s tongue worked its way into Patrick's mouth, he felt a firm hand at his pants, stroking over his groin. As they kissed a little softer, Patrick's hand got more exploratory; pressing at Pete’s hard stomach then down to squeeze his thighs. Patrick's tongue dragged over Pete’s bottom lip as he pulled down the zipper.

Patrick stroked Pete gently in his hand, up and down, thumb swiping over the head. He was good at this, and Pete liked that he didn't have to instruct Patrick, he could just kiss him and kiss him and kiss him as Patrick's hand moved up and down his dick. It was simple stuff, but it worked a treat because soon enough Patrick was squeezing in all the right places and Pete was coming.

“See that was a good treat,” Pete said, when Patrick cleaned him up with a tissue. Thankfully, he hadn't messed the clothes he was wearing, so there'd be no awkward explaining to do to Wardrobe.

“That wasn't too bad, no,” Patrick shrugged, stroking Pete's wrist once more. He didn't seem all that aroused himself so Pete didn't try and reciprocate. He knew the limits when it came to Patrick's moods.

 

The next time they wrote together, working on something that Pete had tossed aside years ago, he broached the subject of getting the band back together. 

“You've thought about it, right? The four of us picking up where we left off,” he said, putting away the guitar in his lap as Patrick stroked Baloo asleep next to him. Patrick's eyes were serious, even as he nodded his head. 

“Maybe not _exactly_ where we left off." Pete couldn't work out if that was a stab at him or a general statement. Nothing and no one had been in a good place by that point. “On a personal level, _I_ didn't like the Patrick everyone thought I was when we were a band, but when I tried showing myself to the world when I went solo, it was hated even more. Who am I meant to be now? And how can I deal with more rejection?”

“People don't stay a constant, Patrick. We all change, you know? Every version of yourself was real, you just grew and developed.” Pete watched Patrick bite the side of his thumb, not looking convinced. Pete felt something bad coming his way, and he really wished he'd kept quiet. 

“I love writing with you. It's a need at this point, but I don't know if I can offer you more,” Patrick said softly. “I don't think I'm strong enough to offer you more.”

“That's alright.” Pete swallowed down the disappointment. It was a wild shot; Patrick had only just been able to function as a singular human for the past few months, asking to go public with who he was and what they were, was probably a billion times too much. Reasoning didn't stop it hurting. 

It was a little like they'd fought for a few days. Pete swore he was the best person normally when it came to Patrick these days, but he avoided Patrick as a way to hide the disappointment. It was petulant, but he needed to cool off for a time. Patrick kept himself busy, aware that he’d upset Pete.

Pete ended up spending time with Brendon. He went over to his house and sat by the pool in his backyard. Pete didn’t bring up the fact that Brendon’s suggestive texts had pissed him off. He just watched Brendon’s movements with caution, trying not to lead him on in any way. When Pete tried to steer clear of personal subjects and asked how the recording for the new album was going, Brendon just shrugged his shoulders.

“Feel like I’m in a different band to the one I started in,” he said quietly. There was bitterness in his tone. For all that Pete was Panic’s boss, he kept out of their business. Ryan was a unmissed friend and he’d hardly known Jon on a personal level. “It’s just wack how this has all happened. Started as a passenger and now I’m the motherfucking pilot.”

“At least you're in a band,” Pete said, and then wished he hadn't when Brendon’s dark eyes sparked in interest. “Don’t read anything into that.”

“You fucked things up with Patrick already?” Brendon asked, leaning into Pete. It took half a beat for Pete to move away and he cursed himself beneath his breath.

“Not yet, but I think I’ve been an ass to him,” Pete admitted. He brushed Brendon’s hands away when they sought his shoulder. He had everything he wanted at home, there was no reason to sabotage it. “I gotta go make it up to him.”

“You know where I am, buddy,” Brendon said. There were secrets hidden behind his words, but Pete didn't want to be the one unlocking them. He had his own shit to deal with, and Patrick’s too.

Patrick was home when Pete walked in, though he was sprawled in the den with Baloo resting his soft head on Patrick’s chest. Patrick’s blue eyes followed Pete as he took a seat beside Patrick, watching their dog's tail flicker at the sight of him.

“You talking to me now?” Patrick asked, a sulky lilt to his voice. Pete deserved that. 

“I’ve been at Brendon’s.” Pete watched Patrick’s face, but it didn’t move. Patrick kept his feelings for Pete so close to his chest sometimes, so carefully guarded. “Nothing happened.”

“Oh that’s good,” Patrick said, voice far off and pissy. “Should I expect it to?”

“Of course not. I’m just saying because I don’t wanna hide shit from you and it’s something, that... I mean, if we fought and then you started hanging out with your ex-fuck buddy I’d be concerned.”

“What do you want me to say to that?” Patrick asked. He finally looked away, stroking Baloo’s dopey head. Pete watched the flicker of his eyelashes, trying to talk his way out of the hole he’d found himself in.

“You should say what you want to me, basically. Also I’m an asshole for shutting you out.”

“Would you rather I lie and say I want to start the band back up? Of course I want to do that, but I don’t think I could deal with it yet and I’m sorry.” Patrick’s eyes centered on Pete again. “I’m not gonna get mad at you for hanging out with Brendon, I trust you. I do have issues with you using it to try and make me jealous though. That’s just plain nasty.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. Honestly, when I was there it just made me glad that I had you to come home to,” Pete said, running a hand through his hair. “If you’d still want me.”

“You know I do.” Patrick’s face softened and he sat up, Baloo jumping away from being disturbed. Patrick opened his arms and Pete went into them, sinking into Patrick’s warmth. “I’m not saying never to the band, just not yet.”

“I know.” Pete stroked his fingers through the back of Patrick’s hair. “I think there’s shit going on in Panic, but I didn't stay long enough to listen. I just wanted to get back to you.”

“Okay.” Patrick pulled away, fingers tracing down the sides of Pete’s face. It felt good to be touching again, Pete didn't know why he’d even started to pull away. “That makes you a shitty boss, but a good boyfriend. I know what I'd pick.”


	5. Chapter 5

“I don’t like fighting with you. Not like we just did,” Patrick said later that night. Pete had just gotten him off with a hand around his dick and dirty words in his ear. Now Patrick lay flushing to a soft pink, head against Pete’s shoulder. “It makes me go to a bad place.”

“I’m sorry,” Pete said again. They'd always fought, but verbal shouting had been therapeutic between them, it got out all of the friction. Avoidance had been something they’d done at the end of their friendship the first time around. “Do you have someone in your group you can talk to if you can’t count on me?”

Patrick nodded his head. “I still have his number in my phone. I read through all of the texts I sent and realize how over my head I was.” It took Pete way too long to understand what Patrick was talking about. He thought he was speaking about a friend from his group before he understood.

“Patrick _why?_ You can’t move on if you’re reading that shit, you can't get better.” Pete was almost nauseous with the idea that Patrick still carried around evidence of his abuser. Having it in his house, having Patrick read whatever that sick fuck said to him whenever he was feeling low. Progress always felt like one step forward and another back. It made Pete feel dirty.

“It’s the only proof I have that it happened and even then my last text is _come over tonight._ You don’t say that unless you want it. When you started to ignore me I read through them all again. I forgot about them, but now I can’t stop reading them.” Pete was like the worst boyfriend ever. The only decent thing would be to grab Patrick’s phone, send the guy's number to Joe and then delete all evidence from Patrick’s phone.

That all seemed far too risky, so Pete just held Patrick closer, not knowing how to respond. Patrick still hadn’t come around to the idea that it wasn’t his fault, despite being in therapy for a couple of months now.

“That’s not true,” Pete said. He could deal with the physical aspect of the trauma a lot more than the mental, but aside from a few weekly nightmares, he didn't have anything left to do. “This is something you need to discuss with Lori. Seriously Patrick. I know you don’t need me to sit in once a month anymore, but I swear I will if you don't get this sorted.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Patrick said, skirting what Pete just said _completely._ “I just want to be able to tell you the things that weigh heavy on me and that’s one of them.”

“Has he sent you anymore messages?” Pete asked, still holding Patrick close, but feeling cold and sick. 

“No. I thought he might because he took photos of me. They both did; I think they filmed some of it. I dunno, I try and block out the flashbacks and memories, but there’s been nothing. Sometimes I think he might send something, probably when I’m having a good day, but so far he hasn’t.” Pete swallowed, his throat dry and his chest heavy. He didn't even know how to respond to that.

 

Pete bought Patrick a new phone for his birthday a few weeks later. They weren't doing anything over the top, just hanging out at home. Bronx was playing on his DS as the two of them sat drinking coffee outside.

“Did you ever talk about the texts in therapy?” Pete hadn't been strong enough to ask about them again, though he presumed Patrick still read through it like a shitty addiction, tricking himself into believing they served as evidence he wanted it to happen.

“No, I didn't know how to bring it up. It feels so stupid,” Patrick said softly. “Which I know is dumb because they'll all understand, but it's just... I couldn't ever find the words. Sometimes it feels like my only attachment to what happened because they didn't leave any long lasting scars.”

“You have scars. They're just up here.” Pete tapped Patrick's head gently, moving his hand afterward to stroke through his hair. “After breakfast how about you clear off any shit you need on your phone and then you move over to the new one. It's a new sim, a new number. Just start afresh.”

“Sounds good.” Patrick smiled up at Pete, leaning over to give him a kiss. There wasn't any fight in him, Pete expected more of a defense.

When Patrick had transferred any data he needed to and sent a new message to everyone he wanted on his new phone, Pete took the old one and stamped on it, crushing the screen. Patrick was helping Bronx clean up the playroom, there wasn't anyone around to see Pete smash the cell so hard that the sole of his foot started to hurt from jamming it into the floor. It was the only connection he'd ever have to the men that did it. 

Patrick didn't want a party so they just spent time as a family, playing mini golf with Bronx (Pete won) and eating out at a Japanese restaurant in the evening. Bronx sat quietly as they ate, fascinated over the thrill of watching the chef cook at their table. He wormed his way onto Pete's lap by the end of the night. Patrick held Pete’s hand beneath the table and smiled at the two of them softly though.

They had a bath together that night, once they'd dropped a sleeping Bronx off at Ashlee's. Pete watched Patrick dip his toes in and out of the water, before he pulled him around, pulling Patrick against his body. 

“I can't believe I'm twenty-eight. I figured I'd fade out by that age. Twenty-seven sure tried to drag me down.” Patrick's voice was gentle in the echoing bathroom. Pete stroked a gentle hand back and forth over his stomach. It was like stroking the underbelly of a cat with how it soothed Patrick.

“You ever think this would be a reality?” Pete asked, kissing Patrick's shoulder.

“No. This whole year has flown by, but so much has happened too. Even though I'm pretty fucked up, I'm in a better place to last year.” Patrick stroked Pete’s thigh beneath the water, hazy laughter falling from his lips.

They made out heavy on the bed afterward, drying off from the water onto each other's skin. Pete was always careful not to press to heavy onto Patrick, knowing it was a trigger, but he was always way more relaxed when they made out in bed rather than anywhere else.

“I got--” Pete started to say, the same time that Patrick started speaking. He gestured for Patrick to continue, shifting onto his side, fingers lightly tracing the inside of Patrick's thigh.

“I was gonna say I lied,” Patrick said softly, hand taking Pete’s fingers and pressing them to his soft mouth. “I lied when I said I never fantasized about us being together.”

“What did you think about?” Pete _was_ fascinated. As much as he could read Patrick in any other situation, he was always so careful about showing his feelings towards Pete, particularly how they'd been in the past.

“Remember how lazy I am so it was nothing too exciting. Just like now really, kissing with you fully on top of me. Kissing my neck as you...” Patrick waved his hand. “Dude, it's embarrassing to talk about. It's just... I always stopped myself from thinking too far otherwise it'd hurt too much, but it's just frustrating to have such a basic fantasy and then not even be able to have you touch me in the ways I want.”

“Like your neck?” Pete always steered clear of his throat. Shoulders were okay, but even the base of his clavicle was something Pete tried to avoid.

“Yeah, but I'm almost ready, I think. To take things further.” Patrick put his hands on Pete's shoulders, leaning over to kiss him again. “I wanna take you inside me. I wanna feel it with you and know it's you and not them.”

“I bought you another present,” Pete said, taking Patrick's word as confirmation. He'd bought it a while ago for Patrick's birthday, but hadn't been sure whether to give it or not. He hopped off the bed and skipped over to the closet, rummaging until he found what he was looking for.

“And there I was thinking we were having a tender moment,” Patrick deadpanned, already sitting up when Pete headed back over with his present. He took it when Pete handed it over, thumb sliding beneath the taped paper Pete had wrapped it in.

“I've read a shit ton of books and websites and they all say it's a good idea,” Pete said as Patrick finally tore through the paper. Pete had taken it out of the packaging because it had been vulgar, and put it in a different box. Patrick pulled out the purple vibrator, eyes widening at the sight of it.

“You bought me a dildo?” Patrick said, sounding like he wasn't sure if it was a joke or not. “Why is it purple?”

“It's a _vibrator._ Apparently it's like a good thing to have one, it can help. Purple seemed non-threatening ... I dunno.” Pete tried to gauge Patrick's reaction, but mostly he looked confused. “You don't have to use it when I'm around, you don't even have to put it inside yourself. Just, like, rest it against parts of your body you like to touch, you know, like your stomach.”

“You've been doing a whole lotta Googling,” Patrick said, stroking his fingers up the smooth base. It was fairly slim with a curved body and a slight bulbous head. It looked stupid and out of place in the bedroom, bright between Patrick's slim fingers.

“Look, if you don't like it and don't want to use it that's fine, but I was thinking that it might be a good thing to use it to get used to the feeling before we fuck like that. I know you're into getting fingered now, but it feels different.”

“I know how it feels,” Patrick said, but Pete shook his head.

“No, you don't. What you experienced wasn't sex.” Pete watched Patrick turn the toy over in his hands until he was looking at the base. His thumb swiped one of the buttons and it turned on. It wiggled loudly in Patrick's hands, whose ears and cheeks had turned a slight pink. He looked borderline horrified with the gift.

“I like that you're trying to sell it to me despite hating bottoming yourself,” Patrick said, but he was smiling and Pete shrugged. Pete nudged his arm over Patrick's shoulder, not caring for the teasing.

“Whatever I tried it, like, three times with three separate people and I hated it. I'm good at topping. I can't wait to top you when you're ready.” Pete watched Patrick, trying to focus all his attention on turning the toy off rather than look at Pete. 

“It's lame to say it, but I'm looking forward to it.” Patrick finally looked up at Pete, smiling so wide that his eyes creased up.

 

The more DJ slots and paid appearances Pete did over the coming weeks just amplified his wish to get the band back together. He didn't say anything to Patrick, not wanting to start anymore fights. It felt like a sensitive subject for them both; enough so that they stopped writing together as well.

They just become regular people for a while. At least on the outside. Patrick worked with bands and Pete did his shit; took selfies, faked at being a normal dad for a time. They double dated with friends, they didn't get photographed by anyone and it was fine.

One day, when they were both at home, Patrick spent all day shooting Pete weird looks. It was enough so that Pete ended up taking Baloo for a long walk, just to get away from Patrick's weirdness. Patrick had calmed down by the time he got home, and they were kissing in bed by the time night came around. Suddenly Patrick pulled away and gave Pete _another_ weird look.

“Okay, Patrick. What's up?” Pete said, resting a hand on Patrick's hip, pressed up against his side. “You've been weird as fuck all day.”

“No I haven't,” Patrick lied, and then relented when Pete raised his eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. I'm just overthinking, but it's causing shit to form in my head and I know you’re gonna be mad but I can’t help it.”Pete took a deep breath and waved his hand, wanting Patrick to continue. “I know we don't say it much, but I love you so much and it's just...sometimes I feel like I love you enough that I should want you to be happy.”

“I _am_ happy,” Pete laughed, “what are you rattling on about?”

“I can't function normally. I can't function in a way regular people do when it comes to sex and I know it sucks for you. You've gone from regular sex with a ton of hot people for years to getting stuck with me.”

“I thought your self-esteem had improved over the years,” Pete said, but Patrick was frowning.

“Yeah it was better, then I got gang-raped and I'm stuck like this.” Patrick wasn't crying, but he looked defeated. “I get so mad at myself because I wanted this for so long and now I can't even keep you happy or satisfied.”

“I think you're hot, Patrick. That's not an issue.”

“I'm not hot like all your exes. That's not even me talking bad about myself. How many actresses, models, singers have you fucked? I can't compete with any of that shit.” Patrick seemed determined to have the conversation, but Pete didn't really know where to go with it. 

“I didn't date most of them,” Pete said, knowing that was a bad choice of words, but wanting to defend himself. “I didn't love any of them like I love you.”

“No, I know that. It's just hard because I know I'm a mess and we can't even have sex and I just want to be enough. I'm just mad. Mad at myself. It's all just fucking frustrating.” Patrick snapped his hands over his eyes. “Everything feels like an overreaction, but I can't help it.”

“I'm willing to make this work with you, no matter how long it takes. You're entitled to feel like you don't match up, but honestly, I don't match up to the majority of my notches, you know? I'm a short dude with big teeth and a fucked brain.” Pete carefully touched Patrick's wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. Patrick was pink and blotchy, pale eyebrows furrowed together. In reality it wasn't a great look, but Pete couldn't see past anything but love.

“This body got me raped. I'm never gonna love it,” Patrick said. “I'm never gonna tell you the things they said about it when it happened, but I can't love it after that. No amount of self-love bullshit that therapy tries to teach me will change it.”

“I know. I feel like I can't change your mind on that, but at the same time you can't convince me that I don't want you and that I'm not attracted to you, even if it is different to what I used to go for.” Pete waited for Patrick to slowly nod his head, before he rolled in, cuddling up to Patrick.

“Life is just fucked,” Patrick said, but he leaned into Pete.

 

Patrick came home from group therapy one day full of buzzing horniness. Pete was trolling old fans on twitter because he felt like being an ass. He was in the den, music playing through the TV. He was pretty lonely but he couldn't tell Patrick to stay home for him. He didn't want to upset the very slight balance that therapy created.

Patrick came home at nine-thirty with a glow and an unusual air about him that he didn't normally carry. He took one look at Pete and quickly made it across the room, taking a seat in Pete’s lap. His arms wound lazily over Pete’s neck, fingers curling into his coarse hair.

“Oh, hello,” Pete said, immediately cheered up. “Therapy got you in a good mood.”

“I've been stupid recently. I'm sorry for getting all caught up in my head stuff,” Patrick said, pressing his nose into the side of Pete’s cheek. Pete was grateful that Patrick was apologizing, not because he deserved one, but just because he couldn't bare for Patrick's state of mind to continue on that downward spiral.

“It's okay. We both knew this wouldn't be easy.” With Patrick on his lap, Pete could get in a fair amount of groping. His fingers traced over Patrick's hips, before resting lower down. “Patrick, goddamn. You are so pretty these days. When did that happen?”

“Uh.” Patrick laughed awkwardly at Pete's comment, hands curling over Pete’s cheeks. “That comment makes me feel way too soft inside, but I'm looking forward to it... To being with you properly. Talked about it in therapy with the guys.”

“I hate that you talk about me to them, they're so fucking judgy,” Pete cut in, just to get his opinion out there. Patrick rolled his eyes.

“They're not that judgy. They just have strong feelings,” Patrick said, kissing at Pete’s mouth. “I have strong feelings for you right now.”

“Oh yeah?” Pete smiled, enjoying the moment. Patrick rarely initiated intimacy between them. It wasn't like Pete was always forcing himself on him, just that he was good at picking up on Patrick's moods. “Like what?”

“Like I wanna go upstairs and I want you to show me how to use that toy.” They hadn't touched the vibrator since Patrick's birthday. It had overwhelmed Patrick at the time and he felt silly about it, Pete could tell. “I'm ready for it, I swear.”

“I'm not gonna say no to that.” Pete gently patted Patrick's ass to motivate him into moving. Sex was something Pete read should always happen in a safe space. Their bedroom seemed the best spot, so they kept all of the heavy petting up there. So far the lack of spontaneity hadn't bored Pete. Patrick led them up into the bedroom, practically bouncing with anticipation.

“I'm excited,” Patrick laughed, falling onto the bed. “Don't mock my OTT enthusiasm, I know it's borderline pathetic.”

“Dude, I'd never do that,” Pete said. “I just find it cute.” They made out for a few minutes, it usually helped settle Patrick down before they lost their clothes and they went through the green-amber-red game. Patrick's neck was still off limits and his arms were amber, but the rest of him was green.

Pete was used to hovering over Patrick these days, always aware that putting all his weight down could cause some type of flashback, but shit, he was still so into exploring Patrick's body with his mouth that he didn't care. He started from his stomach, licking and kissing at his chest, always stopping below his clavicle. Patrick's skin always heated up so quickly, damp with sweat as Pete mouthed over to the left, sucking at his nipple.

Patrick's face pinked up as Pete bit down. He'd gone for it harder than he meant, but Patrick's hips lifted up and he moaned thickly in the back of his throat.

“You _liked_ that,” Pete said with surprise. He had no plans whatsoever to bring pain play into their relationship, so he was shocked at the reaction.

“Yeah.” He watched Patrick rub at his other nipple slightly before cupping Pete's face. “Before the attack rendered me a sexless robot I used to be pretty into that sorta stuff. When I was alone I used clamps and stuff, you know, just while I jerked off.”

“I am in heaven,” Pete said, almost ducking his head to Patrick's throat before he remembered. Instead he ducked and grazed his teeth over Patrick's nipple again, sucking it into his mouth and feeling Patrick writhe beneath him. “I'll get you some new clamps.”

“Okay,” Patrick laughed breathlessly, hands wrapping over Pete’s body. “What kinks do you have?”

The fact Patrick wanted to have that conversation now made Pete want to cry. Couldn't they just fuck first? “All sorts. Can we talk about them after?”

“Sure,” Patrick said. “Sorry.”

“S'okay, we just got more important things to do right now,” Pete kissed at Patrick's stomach, always so fucking pleased with what an erogenous zone it was. Patrick predictably gasped. Pete’s fingers started to stroke lower, over Patrick's groin and he moved to stroke Patrick's thigh instead. They were already damp with sweat. “You sure you want the toy?”

“Green,” Patrick joked, nodding his head. “Bit scared, but more excited.”

Pete jumped up from the bed, knowing Patrick's eyes were on his body. He found the toy untouched from the drawer they'd left it in. He grabbed it as well as the lube from the drawer.

“Can you put a condom on it?” Patrick asked, and then pulled a face. “I know it's dumb.”

“You don't need to explain,” Pete calmed Patrick with a hand stroking his thigh. Patrick was so easy about being naked with Pete that it was the one thing that always eased Pete. Even now, he laid with his legs open, nervous, but only because of the purple toy on the bed.

Pete knew all the parts of Patrick that squirmed with excitement. His stomach and the backs of his knees, his _nipples._ He kissed all of those parts, making Patrick forget about his nerves.

“You gonna be good for me? You gonna behave?” Pete asked, teasing Patrick with the dirty talk he liked. Patrick bit at his lip, nodding his head.

Patrick laid back down, a pillow already beneath his hips. Pete didn't want to get him off too early; wanted it to build slowly, wanted a low burn to take over Patrick before he finally uncoiled. Patrick was already quivering as Pete slipped his tongue into his mouth, thumbs covering his nipples. Pete was hard too, a little from anticipation, but mostly because this was something he'd been thinking about for a while.

He pulled away eventually, opening the drawer of his nightstand to grab at a condom. Patrick pushed a hand down his belly before wrapping around his cock as Pete slowly smoothed a rubber over the smooth vibrator.

“I won't turn it on without telling you,” Pete promised, feeling kind of silly holding a condom wrapped purple vibrator. He laughed at Patrick's nervous face. “You're alright.”

“I'm still green. A nervous green.” Patrick's thighs fell open again, as Pete shifted up the bed. He traced the toy over Patrick's thighs, before warning that he was going to turn it on low. Patrick nodded, holding onto his dick as Pete twisted the dial, keeping it on the lowest setting.

Patrick let out a nervous giggle as Pete traced the low buzzing vibe over his body. He steered clear of his groin, but pressed down into the give of Patrick's stomach. That gave an obvious moan and he drifted it back down.

“Can't believe I've been panicking about this,” Patrick laughed, as Pete’s hand traced a second after the vibe. He wanted to keep everything soft and carefree. He was faking it just as much as Patrick was desperately trying to calm down.

“It’s all good, man. I’m gonna make it so good,” Pete said, turning the vibrator off and resting it on the bed. He instead lubed his fingers up. They'd done this bit a fair amount, just to get Patrick used to it. For the most part he liked it, so long as Pete made it obvious and didn't go jamming his fingers with no warning. To be honest, Pete was fairly certain no one would like that. “You ready for this part?”

Patrick nodded, shutting his eyes as Pete’s fingers slid between his legs. Pete had never wasted much time on this with other people. It was always about gratification; his gratification, really. He’d always liked tightness and too much friction. It was the opposite to what he got now. He just pressed over Patrick for a few seconds, waiting for him to relax. On a deep exhale, when Patrick relaxed slightly, Pete pushed two of his fingers in.

“Fuck.” Patrick tightened almost immediately, but in a good way. Pete drank it in, pressing his mouth to the side of Patrick’s inner thigh. “I’m starting to really like this part.”

“I can tell.” Pete smiled up at Patrick, other hand finally tracing lightly over Patrick’s cock. He wriggled up the bed so he had a better angle to both gently move his fingers as well as stroke Patrick with his movements. Patrick started to rock down onto both his hand and then his fingers. Pete allowed this for a few minutes before he pulled away from both.

“I was enjoying that,” Patrick said with a thick voice. Pete still hadn’t got over how he sounded during and right after sex. His voice thickened, his accent slowing. It was just...way too hot.

“You’ll like this too, I promise.” Pete picked the vibrator up again. Patrick sat up to watch, his stomach creasing up as he licked his lips in thought. There wasn’t exactly much to think about, but Pete didn’t question it, just smeared lube over the toy. He used too much, but it seemed like a better option than too little. He gently pushed Patrick onto his back again, waiting for him to just go with it. Patrick opened his legs and Pete got a flash of the good stuff. He grabbed the slippery toy and gently traced over Patrick’s thighs, his dick, and then between his legs. He just laid the head of the toy against Patrick’s ass, waiting on his reaction. Patrick froze, but he was taking deep breaths, right down to his lungs. Pete watched him, prayed that Patrick wouldn’t freak out. When he finally calmed down, unfreezing his limbs ever so, Pete placed pressure on the toy. It went in with more ease than he anticipated. Only the head at first, but he watched Patrick’s body take it.

“Is this good?” Pete asked. Patrick had gone so quiet, even though his body was relaxed. He nodded his head, but didn’t speak. “I’m gonna need a color, Trick.”

“Green,” Patrick whispered. “It’s green, but just overwhelming. Don’t turn it on yet.”

“I won’t.” Pete’s wrist was getting a little stiff, but he didn't want to move at all. He just stroked Patrick’s thigh, the one closest to him, and waited it out.

“Okay, move or something,” Patrick ordered and Pete laughed, shrugging quickly when Patrick's eyes peeled open on a glare. Pete pushed the toy in further. It went with more ease now the widest part had entered Patrick. He moved it gently, back and forward, trying to keep a kind of momentum.

“You're such a good boy, Patrick,” Pete said, half as a joke, half because he knew it got to Patrick. It had its effect; Patrick's body rocked, flexing around the toy as he groaned.

“Fuck you for that,” Patrick said, then his breath caught and his mouth puckered. “Or just keep fucking me, you can turn it on now.”

“Sure thing.” Pete thumbed the switch, pressing the toy up and shifting his head to fold his lips over Patrick's dick. It didn't take much after that. He just kept sliding his mouth over the head, pushing the vibe in deeper, but never increasing the speed. He pulled away when Patrick was close, using his free hand to Jack Patrick off instead. He came quick and he came very loudly. Pete watched it all, only pulling the vibrator out when Patrick relaxed completely boneless.

Pete crawled up the bed so that they were face to face. Patrick wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. Pete took that as his chance to get off himself and he worked himself over with his own hand, breathing in the scent of Patrick, feeling safe and warm in his arms. They were both spent only a minute later, Pete staring into Patrick's smiling face.

“No, I liked that.” Patrick flopped onto his back, stretching his legs out. “I was so scared of getting a flashback, but it didn't feel bad at all. Like, not anything like what it was with them.”

“It isn't supposed to hurt.”

“Yeah. But I couldn't bare the idea of it being intolerable with you. I guess when I think about it, I remember it hurting, but the emotional shit was worse.”

“It's sweet that we always end on a little post-sex analysis,” Pete joked, howling when Patrick jabbed his side. “So the vibrator was a good present?”

Patrick shrugged, but his sideways laugh gave him away. “Yeah, I liked it. Maybe we can build up the buzzing more next time?”

“Sure. I didn't want to freak you out. We can build it up until one day you're ready for the real thing.”

“Oh so you can release P-T Pete on me?” Patrick rolled dramatically onto his side, his fingers riding over Pete's ribs.

“What's P-T Pete?” he laughed, his own hand cupping Patrick's shoulder.

“Power Top Pete. Isn't that what you pride yourself on?” Patrick's laugh was hazy and thick, voice still low from his orgasm.

“I never put it _that way._ Gotta a nice ring to it, though. I like it.”

“You would.” Patrick leaned up, kissing Pete. His hands cupped Pete's cheeks, semi straddling him. “Gonna take a shower. Order me pizza.”

“I'll order _me_ pizza,” Pete joked, watching Patrick laugh his way into the bathroom. “but I might be tempted to share.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I was thinking we could talk about kinks now. If you want,” Pete said, when they'd headed back downstairs for pizza. Patrick was wiping his glasses on his shirt, but he shrugged his shoulders like he didn't care either way. 

“I don't have any,” he said, as he shoved the glasses back up his nose.

“Yeah, you do. You've got a thing for nipple clamps, _apparently._ ” Pete laughed as Patrick flipped him off. “Don't get all squirmy about things now. I'm down for anything weird and wonderful.”

“No, I think you know everything,” Patrick admitted. “I like being praised  and I like nipple play. I've never really been that adventurous, I dunno. I see myself different with you than with all the girls I've been with.”

“How?”

“I like pleasing you, letting you tell me how we do it and shit,” Patrick laughed nervously. “Like in a borderline weird way. I know you're into Dom/sub stuff and I've been told to stay away from that stuff in therapy, but I dunno. It feels sorta linked to that shit without being full on.”

“Yeah, I think it is. I don't miss it, I wouldn't wanna be that way with you considering what happened.”

“Would you if I hadn't been raped?” Patrick asked and Pete was flummoxed, trying to think it over.

“If we're being brutally honest, then yeah. I probably would, but it's not something I would ever force on you and I think we're healthier without bringing it into the mix.”

“What else then? Aside from BDSM that isn't going to happen.” Patrick stared at Pete, ankles tucked under his knees, hair drying from the shower and an untouched box of pizza between them. “I hope you're not a furry.”

“Why would you think I was?” Pete thought to the photoshoots and outfits he'd forced the band into, the variety of animals suits he'd worn over the years. Okay, he could see where Patrick was coming from but _no._ “I was just an attention seeking weirdo, Patrick. I'm not into that shit, I promise.”

“Good. I think I'd prefer BDSM to that,” Patrick laughed, but then gave Pete a pointed look. “Tell me one, then.”

“Uh. Okay, I think food is fun, you know, pouring something sweet and edible over a body and licking it off.” Maybe this wouldn't go down too badly. Patrick's eating habits had improved, he might be into it. 

Patrick laughed before covering his mouth. He carried in like that for a good minute and a half. “Wait, who does the licking?”

“I'm not fussy, I'm a verse in that situation, plus it always means a mutual shower afterwards. It's fun and silly, it's not serious.”

“Okay.” Patrick nodded his head, like he was accepting it, even if his face was still flushed from laughing. “That sounds like an experiment.”

“A good one, you'll love it.” Pete moved the pizza box out the way and crawled over to Patrick, wrapping an arm over his shoulder and resting his other one on his stomach. “We'll have fun.”

Pete so badly wanted to kiss at Patrick's neck, but he knew he couldn't, so he just nuzzled the side of his face for a bit. Patrick squirmed happily, fingers curling over Pete’s on his stomach.

“This isn't really a kink, more an anecdote that I feel you'll enjoy,” Patrick started to mutter. “When I was with Anna, like, near when we first got together we were so awkward about everything, you know? Like how I still am, but anyway, she bought some, like, lingerie to wear, but it was way too big so I put it on instead as a joke.”

“ _And?_ ” Pete enjoyed that anecdote way too much. He needed more info. “Tell me more.”

“There isn't much more to tell.” Patrick turned to Pete, his glasses catching the side of Pete’s face. “They were cheap so they chafed.”

“You started that story so well, dude. You can't end it on 'they chafed.'”

“Well, it was okay. She liked it, I felt kind of stupid, but everyone feels stupid wearing that shit when they're a chubby nineteen year old dude wearing lingerie their girlfriend bought for herself.”

“I still think it sounded hot. You should wear it for me,” Pete sleazed in Patrick's ear. He got a jab and an eye roll for the comment, but Patrick wasn't freezing or turning pink.

“You'd have to be really good for me to agree to that. And, you know, we'd have the lights off.”

“We so would _not_ have the lights off,” Pete pulled away from Patrick and grabbed the pizza box. “Something red and lacy cupping that pretty package of yours would brighten my night up for sure.”

Pete turned to Patrick, who was staring blankly at him. He grinned goofily as Patrick shook his head, laughing it off.

 

The day of his birthday he was filled with dread. He wanted things low key just to keep Patrick happy. Patrick had been planning a house party, but Pete had canceled it. New Years had been their last one and he didn't need any more drama.

“You never want lowkey,” Patrick told him over breakfast. Breakfast was the two of them soaking up the morning sun in the backyard. Patrick fed him slithers of pancakes between kisses.

“I promise I want low-key . Just you and Bronx, if he wasn't in Nashville with the Simpsons. So mostly just you.”

“Just me and the dog,” Patrick took a bite himself. “Still think you're lying, but that's fine. I think you'll like your presents.”

They'd had a talk about Patrick's gift buying skills. Pete couldn't deal with more bass strings and Patrick couldn't understand that that was the musician equivalent to socks. In the end, Patrick had bargained that he’d take Pete out for dinner that night and maybe throw in some extra gifts throughout the day.

“You get your first gift now.” Patrick reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card. Pete wasn’t expecting much, and home tickets to the next Bull’s game was like the last thing he’d expected. He turned to Patrick in shock, who just shrugged, unable to hide his smug smirk.

“You’re not entirely useless.”

“No. I see you watching their games when I'm not paying attention. Better than a check and bass strings, right? Plus it means a trip back home.”

“You missing it?” Pete asked, just about stopping himself from kissing the tickets. He didn't wanna get them wet. 

“No more than normal,” Patrick said. “Anyway today isn't about me; it’s you.”

They ended up milling around the city; Patrick was in a lively mood, making jokes and laughing at Pete whenever he did something stupid. It was fun, and Pete was excitedly involving himself in the day, even if he sorta wished he hadn’t said no to a party.

They were spending the night at some bar in town that Pete wanted to check out. Patrick was driving, but they only got lost once so it wasn't bad. Patrick pulled Pete along the sidewalk with way more excitement than he needed, but it was _whatever._ It was Pete’s birthday night, he could deal with Patrick’s high moods just as well as his own.

As they walked into the bar, Patrick’s fingers tight to his wrist, Pete frowned. The room was packed with his friends, all holding drinks and wooping as he looked around. He turned to Patrick, who gave a small shrug.

“You think I wouldn't want you to be center of attention on your birthday?” he said. “Happy birthday, asshole. Go see your friends.”

Pete had the best time seeing people he’d long since ignored for months. Travie had flown in from New York, Gabe was dancing on a table and even Brendon was there. Patrick was an awesome boyfriend for putting himself aside to make Pete happy.

“So you hired this place out for the night,” Pete said, finding Patrick halfway through the night. Patrick had been tucked in the corner talking with his hands to a bunch of people.

“You didn't think I was going to make you really spend the night alone with me?” Patrick asked on a laugh. “I can keep a good secret.”

“Yeah, you can. Thank you.” Pete leaned in and gave Patrick a kiss. Not a long one because Patrick wouldn't want that in front of everyone, just enough to taste the whiskey on his tongue. “You're just the goddamn best.”

“I know.” Patrick smiled, tapping Pete’s cheek lightly with his fingers. “Go have fun.”

Pete spoke with all his old crowd; Travie, Gabe, some roadies from years back. Even some guys he knew from Illinois. Patrick had actually emailed plans out for the party which was way more than Pete could ever imagine from a dude that never checked his emails.

Most of the conversations were jokes around his relationship with Patrick; digs at for him not telling them, and way too many threats of castration if he fucked things up. He told everyone that Joe had been promised that job already, but he was overwhelmed by the amount of people that seem genuinely happy for him. Sometimes Pete felt so fraudulent; like none of his friends were real or cared deep down. He was always astounded with the love they showed back to him.

Patrick drove them home afterward, not too over the limit. Pete just stared at his soft profile, hunched up in the jacket Pete bought him for Christmas. It was too hot for it, but Patrick was weird that way. Pete never wanted to tease him for it.

“I said Gabe could come over at some point tomorrow,” Pete said as they walked inside the house. He wanted to half pick Patrick up, half push him against the wall. He slid his arms around his waist from behind, nuzzling at his ear. “You look so good tonight.”

“Figured I should make the effort,” Patrick laughed softly, leaning into Pete’s arms. “It's cool for Gabe to come over. I haven't seen him in forever. But first I need to give you the rest of your gifts. Give me five minutes upstairs then come up.” Patrick wriggled from Pete’s clutches, bounding up the stairs. Pete watched him before wandering into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He wasn't too drunk, just a little tipsy.

When his time was up he headed up the stairs and to the bedroom. Patrick had candles lit and the lights dimmed and soft music playing. Pete was in for a treat. He pulled his clothes off in a pile, leaving just his underwear on and threw himself onto the bed, waiting for Patrick to come out of the bathroom.

When Patrick did finally come out, he was wearing an old Bull's shirt of Pete’s that had always been way too big to wear. It was hot, Pete was grinning as Patrick hopped onto the bed.

“ _Hello,_ ” Pete said, running his hands down Patrick's sides, feeling the shiny fabric under his rough fingers. “Is this one of my gifts, because it is majorly hot.” The shirt was just above Patrick's knees, Pete’s hands slid down until they cupped beneath Patrick's knees, into the warm bend. 

“It is. You have three gifts left. I swear to God if you laugh I will kill you.” Patrick's voice dropped low. Pete held his hands up and shook his head. It was hard not to laugh when he was feeling tipsy. Patrick waited and then slowly sat up onto his knees, fingers tightening on the hem of the shirt. He lifted it up past his stomach and Pete saw a pair of red lace panties, just about containing Patrick. “You asked for this and so I'm giving you it.”

“Holy shit! This is amazing.” Pete smoothed his hands slowly up Patrick's thighs, until they touched lace. He must have gone for pricier than before because the lace was soft and delicate. “You wore panties for me.”

“Yup. Don't think this is gonna be a regular thing, it's just a birthday treat. But you sounded really into the idea when we talked about it.” Patrick's laugh turn into a moan when Pete palmed his hand over his lace covered crotch.

“Gonna make you come in your pretty little panties, Patrick. Gonna make you want it so bad,” Pete said, sliding the tip of one finger beneath elastic. Patrick's pink mouth opened as Pete rubbed his finger against him, his chest heaving as he clutched at Pete.

“Not yet,” Patrick managed to choke out, sounding like he really didn't want to come in his panties _just yet._ “I haven't given you your other gifts, or your massage.”

“I can do without the massage tonight,” Pete said. “I just want you like this.”

“You can have me like this,” Patrick whispered back, leaning down to kiss at Pete's mouth. Their noses bumped, but it didn't matter. “That's what else I want you to have tonight. I'm ready for it now, I know I am and I want you to have me tonight. For your birthday.”

Pete’s mind went blank at the thought. They'd been building up, sure. They'd used the toy on Patrick a fair amount, but he still hadn't thought it was that close. He stared at Patrick, who stared back with a hopeful expression.

“You want me to fuck you tonight?” Pete asked, and Patrick nodded his head. He sat up over Pete’s crotch, pushing the shirt out of the way so Pete could still see the red underwear.

“Yes. I've been practicing on my own with the toy wishing it was you, pretending it was you inside me every time I come. I'm hardly ever scared when we do it now, I just really want it with you.” Patrick's words sounded only a little rehearsed, and Pete understood why. He didn't care, he'd been waiting to hear those words forever.

“Yeah, yeah okay. I'm fucking ready for this!” Pete sat up, smashing their mouths together in excitement. Patrick slid forward, sliding over Pete’s dick, but he just moaned and clutched at Pete’s shoulders. It was so good having Patrick willing and hard with no sign of hesitance whatsoever. “Wait.”

Pete pulled away gently, touching his fingers to Patrick's mouth. Patrick's eyebrows rose in confusion, but Pete shook his head.

“Nah, I said months ago that when you were ready I'd book us a fancy-ass vacation somewhere for us to do it. I can't back out of it now, even if you're wearing lacey panties and telling me how good it feels fucking yourself and pretending it's me.”

“Well, I never said it _that way,_ ” Patrick insisted with a frown. “Dude, I don't care about some vacation. Here is fine.”

“No, I want it to be special. I don't want it to be when we're both a little drunk on my birthday. It should be about you, not me.”

“It should probably be about both of us,” Patrick said, laughing. “You really want to wait until we're somewhere else.”

“Yeah, I do. I don't think I've ever had romantic sex in such a grand way. You losing your virginity to me on a Caribbean resort sounds perfect.”

“I'm not exactly a virgin,” Patrick said. He could have been talking about the fact he'd had sex with women before and that would've made sense, but Pete knew he wasn't thinking about that.

“Losing your virginity is about sex, what those men did to you wasn't sex and so you are my virginal boyfriend and I'm gonna give it to you in all the best, most perfect ways.” Pete waited for Patrick to nod awkwardly before continuing. “Plus it will build the excitement, right? Let it bubble for a few weeks as we know we're ready to do it. Touching you in all the best places, knowing you want it somewhere else. It's gonna be awesome.”

“I hope so. You've kinda built it up now. I hope I'm not disappointed,” Patrick sassed, but Pete grunted, pushing Patrick down onto the bed. Patrick reached up and grabbed the headboard between his hands as Pete pushed the dumb shirt up to under his arms. Patrick was already drawing in deep breaths, his stomach rising and falling, his panties doing a bad job at covering his hardening modestly.

It wasn't long before Pete had his fingers slicked up and pushing into Patrick, the panties still on. Patrick was tight around Pete’s fingers, squeezing down and moaning loudly, pinching at his nipples as Pete mouthed at the lace, using it as a slick barrier and refusing to touch Patrick's bare skin.

“Fuck me,” Patrick was whispering, but Pete wouldn't, not today, not until he could go overboard with romance and chivalry, as unappreciative as Patrick would find it. “Pete, _please_.”

Yeah okay, it was so hot having Patrick moan his name like that. Pete crossed the fingers he had pushed inside Patrick, going for a deeper, harder penetration. Patrick liked it, bucking up and nudging the panties against Pete’s mouth. Patrick became tighter and tighter, swearing and crying out; _begging_ Pete until he came in the panties, his entire body finally softening as he fell back onto the bed.

“What about you?” Patrick said, stretching his joints out. He pulled the shirt back down, wriggling out of the panties. Which was so disappointing for Pete. “You want a massage?”

“No. Just come here and I'll rub one out,” he pulled on Patrick's wrist and let him crawl over him.

“You should let me,” Patrick  said, slapping Pete's hand away and taking him between his fingers. Patrick had gotten good at this, stroking Pete's dick in all the right places, keeping his fingers tight until the very end. His mouth was a warm wet sucker on Pete's neck, teeth lightly nipping, hands wandering over Pete's skin, tracing tattoos as Pete's dick rode his hand. Pete came, thinking about all the new ways they could learn to love each other over the next few years. Hand jobs were fine, but he was getting kinda sick of them. 

Patrick immediately wanted to shower afterwards, which was part of his routine, but Pete whined enough that he was complacent to just lay with Pete awhile.

“What about my last gift,” Pete slurred, nudging Patrick's shoulder with his nose. “I bet it doesn't beat the panties.”

“I'm not sure anything will beat the panties in your mind,” Patrick laughed. He sat up though, looking down at Pete, who rested a hand on the warm softness of Patrick's thigh.

“It beats even the basketball. It beats a romantic vacation. It's good, buy more,” Pete said, but Patrick just shook his head, trying to hide his smile.

“I wanna get the band back. At least, I want to write with you guys and record. I'm still nervous about performing and touring. I don't even know if there's an audience for us anymore.”

“Are you being serious?” Pete continued to stroke Patrick's thigh, but his heart had frozen with the thought.

“Yeah. Like I said, I'm down for recording. We've worked on so much shit over the last few months, and the more I think about it the more ready I am.”

“We get to be Fall Out Boy again?” Pete said. This almost did beat the red panties. Not quite, but it was up there.

“Providing you and Joe can get on. I think they'd both be up for it. Just writing anyway.” Patrick smiled down at Pete. “Is that a good last gift? Can I go take a shower now?”

“Yeah you can take a shower,” Pete laughed. He shut his eyes as Patrick left the room. Thinking things over, he couldn't think of a better way to spend his birthday.

 

Pete was glad that Gabe was coming over. He had so much running through his mind the next morning. Fall Out Boy, booking a vacation. It was all way too much.

Gabe showed up around midday and they chilled in the den together. Patrick had been out running errands, but Pete had seen his car in the drive so he must be home. He wanted to give Pete and Gabe time to gossip alone no doubt.

“You and Patrick. I didn't see it coming, I gotta say it,” Gabe said. “Didn't think there was feelings like that on either side.”

“Really?” Pete was surprised. “Everyone else seemed to know about Patrick's feelings. Made me feel like an ass.”

“I guess that makes us both assholes,” Gabe conceded and Pete laughed. That was about right. “You look happy. You both did last night.”

“Yeah, we are. Very happy last night, I swear to God. Patrick, a Bull's shirt, and fucking Agent Provocateur panties is like the best mix ever.” Gabe nodded as if imagining it for himself. “Plus, we're thinking about starting the band up again.”

Gabe’s expression changed. “Wow that's big. You up for that shit? Is anyone else?”

“Patrick's in, Andy's hinted at it. Joe will take some convincing, but there's not much he won't do for Patrick, so he can deal with him.”

“Good thinking.” Gabe winked. It was good having him around. They had the same mind half the while. “You hit your mid thirties with a bang, buddy. You ever dated anyone as old as Patrick?”

“He's only just twenty-eight,” Pete laughed, but Gabe just shrugged.

“That's what? Eight years on your usual.”

“Yeah, well. I've turned over a new leaf. Don't need too young when I have Patrick.” Pete couldn't hide from his past. He hadn't ever realised it was a thing until it was pointed out.

“When you have Patrick in a Bull's shirt and Victoria Secret's panties?”

Pete ribbed his friend with a sharp elbow. “Agent Provocateur, asshole.”

They moved into the kitchen at one point, when Gabe's stomach made itself known. Patrick had wandered in with a cold cup of coffee as Gabe used the bathroom and Pete stared at the contents of the refrigerator.

“I had to watch TV with the subtitles on Gabe's voice is so loud,” Patrick said, dumping the mug in the sink. “I never said where I got the lingerie from.”

“It wasn't the cheap Victoria Secret shit. I know that much. The rest is just semantics, Trick.” Pete turned around to see Patrick frown.

Patrick opened his mouth to retort something, but Gabe blustered into the room again. He threw his arm around Patrick's shoulders and Pete watched the moment Patrick froze, his eyes widening as his body stiffened beneath Gabe's touch.

“Hey Gabe, go find a movie to watch. I'll make you something to eat.”

“You just want me out the way to woo Patrick. Whatevs, you know where to find me.” Patrick flinched as Gabe kissed his cheek, but then their friend waltzed out the room, making kissing noises.

“You okay?” Pete said, seeing how pale Patrick had gotten. He grabbed a glass of water and handed it to Patrick.

“He's so tall… Just like Gabe. He doesn't look like him and yet there are moments.” Patrick shut his eyes, making just enough sense that Pete knew what he was saying. He remembered Patrick comparing them not long after the assault and hating himself for it.

“Just take deep breaths,” Pete said. “Don't try and overthink things.”

“Gabe's such a nice guy,” Patrick said, after gulping down half the water. He almost choked, so Pete rubbed his back. “I know it's not him but it _feels_ the same in that moment.”

“It's not anything to worry about. I'll keep him away for now okay?”

“I know that's not a real solution, but thanks. Could you tell him not to kiss me. I don't like that anymore.”

“To be honest, neither do I,” Pete said, which got a small smile. Patrick gave him a tight squeeze, folding his face to Pete's neck briefly before pulling away.

“I'm gonna go walk Baloo. Clear my head of this,” Patrick wiped at his face and Pete let him go. There wasn't anything he could do at these moments. He just had to let Patrick go.

 

 

“We should probably talk to Joe and Andy at some point, to make sure they're actually into the idea of writing with us before jumping the gun,” Patrick told Pete a few days later. They'd settled on flying out to Jamaica for a week as their romantic getaway, and dealing with getting into band mode afterward, but Patrick thought they should clear the air with the other guys first before too much disappointment could set in.

“Sure. I'll take Andy, you can talk to Joe,” Pete said, knowing the exact look Patrick gave him.

“Do you and Joe even like each other anymore? Are you willing to be in a band together because what's the point of even doing this if that isn't the case?” Patrick started to rant, but Pete just tapped his hand in what was presumable soothingness.

“I love that dickhead. You just deal with him better than me and he's the one that will fight this more, I think. You are way more diplomatic than me when it comes to Trohman.” That was true. Patrick was a soothsayer, calmer and more patient than Pete when it dealt in other people's feelings. Maybe he was just more empathetic.

“ _Fine_ , but I'm not mediating between you guys afterward. Andy can have that job.” Patrick stood up and grabbed his phone from the coffee table. “I'm gonna call him now to get it done. Wish me luck.”

“You don't need none,” Pete said, watching Patrick leave the room. He figured now was as good a time as any to phone Andy and ask him. He went out into the backyard, already hearing Patrick's voice coming from Pete's office. Andy was slow picking up his phone, but when his voice did come through it was clear and soft as anything.

“Hey, Pete. What's up?” He asked. “Sorry for the delay. I'm just back from the gym.”

“Of course you were,” Pete laughed. It was funny how bulked up Andy had got over the last few years considering how scrawny he'd been previously. Pete had thickened with muscle too, but not by _that_ much. “Just wanted to check in, see how things were.”

“Things are fine. Good. Kind of boring actually. What's up with you and Patrick? I'm guessing you enjoyed the surprise party.”

“I had a few other gifts that surpassed that,” Pete admitted. Andy wasn't Gabe, so he didn't divulge any mention of panties to his old friend. “We've booked a last minute vacation to Jamaica for a week. We haven't done anything like that as a couple, so that will be fun.”

“Nice,” Andy said softly. “He's improved so much, it's kind of crazy.”

“Yeah he has. Gabe came round the day after my birthday, but there's something about him that really sets Patrick off. It's like he triggers him, almost? It's so shitty for Patrick.”

“Shit. What did Gabe say?”

“I don't think he noticed,” Pete laughed. It was one of the best things about Gabe. He was always so locked in his own weird bubble that other people's reactions to him just bounce right off. “Patrick just stayed away for the time being. It's sad because they used to be pretty close, but it's the only way he can think to deal with it for the time being. Apart from that though, he's doing awesome. This vacation is sort of a way for us to finalize our relationship, you know?”

“It's not legal for you guys to get married, Pete. You know that, right?” Andy said, but even if it was legal, Pete wasn't sure he'd ever want to get married again. His marriage to Ashlee had put him off that kind of commitment for life.

“Not that, idiot. I just meant, we haven't gone all the way yet but he says he's ready now.” Andy made a high pitch noise down the phone. “I was trying to save your ears.”

“With anyone else it's fine, but with you guys there's too much weird history for me to be able to listen to anything too sordid.”

“Yeah, I know that. I didn't call to tell you that anyway. I wanted to talk about something else.” Pete took a deep breath, waiting to see if Andy said anything else. He didn't, giving Pete space to talk instead. “Alright. Patrick and I have been writing a lot over the past few months, and he says he wants to record, and maybe play as a band again. I do too.”

“You want to get the band back together?”

“Yeah. Whether we tour or not is a whole different thing, but we've got material, good material. We need you and Joe to say yes to this. We wouldn't do anything without you.”

“I'll always be up for that, you know it. Though Joe's gonna be the one to convince,” Andy said. Pete was immediately relieved, and suddenly wondering why he was so worried about it in the first place.

“That's why I have Patrick talking to Joe. Patrick can sweet talk Joe into doing anything,” Pete said, not entirely convinced of his words. “Joe and I did talk out our issues, but I feel like there's probably gonna be some residual issues.”

“Sure. That's a bridge to cross when the time comes, Pete. I'm in so long as everyone else is in.”

Pete felt like he'd been on the phone a fair amount of time with Andy, but it wasn't anything compared to how long Patrick was left dealing with Joe.

When he did come out of Pete's office, he didn't look happy. Pete's stomach dropped and it must've shown on his face because Patrick immediately shook his head.

“He's in, but there's, like, a billion loopholes. Feel like I'm halfway through a tour with how drained I feel,” Patrick said, rubbing at his forehead. “He was happy by the end.”

“Why’d it take so long?” Pete asked, pushing over a coffee for Patrick. He took it, wrapping his fingers tight.

“He wants it on the word that nothing's like before. In terms of like, managerial control and the creative process.”

“The creative process.” Pete pressed his lips together, dreading the explanation. 

“Apparently we're huge assholes, but I think we both know that. Our ideas are not the only ideas, things exist outside of our bubble etc.” Patrick waved his fingers. “It was tiring but kinda good having that side of Joe snap at me. He coddles me more now...ever since what happened.”

“Yeah. So we have to be more accommodating and make the label more accommodating toward a band that hasn't made them any money in going on three years? “

“Exactly,” Patrick laughed, taking a sip of his coffee. “But first we get to go on vacation.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for still sticking by this. All your comments mean a lot! :)

There were no nerves as they flew out of LA, just a whole lot of excitement. Patrick was complaining about his likelihood to get sunburned, but it was just empty rambles to fill up the space. When Pete offered to rub sunscreen in all his hard to reach places, Patrick's mouth shut and his eyes closed in a huff.

The hotel was lush, Pete booked it for the private beach and the inclusive massages. Patrick just went along with everything, letting Pete handle checking in. When they got to their room, it made it seem all the more real, that they were away with no one else, no kids, no worries; just the two of them.

“We have our own veranda looking out onto the private beach, shit, Patrick. I don't wanna go home.” Pete zoomed over to the French doors in the bedroom. It was like honeymoon standards of lavish. 

Patrick laughed, sitting on the side of the bed. “You will eventually. Now we're here, I'm kinda nervous.”

“What for?” Pete turned from the veranda. “About having sex? Calm down about it, it's not something we have to rush.”

“What if I fuck up?” Patrick looked genuinely nervous so Pete didn't laugh in his face as he took a seat beside him. 

“You won't. We'll do the green light game and you'll tell me how you feel the whole while.” He rubbed at Patrick's shoulder, until he got a nod and a scrunched up nose in response. 

 

They spent the next day just enjoying the city. It was alive in the ways LA wasn't, and so much more colorful. There was vibrancy down to the food they had and Pete’s eyes were almost sore looking at the water as they walked across the private beach. His chest had started to build with his own set of anxieties and he was trying to swallow them down.

“Santa Monica has the only beaches I like,” Patrick said, as they walked. They didn't hold hands because Pete wasn't sure how well that would go over if anyone spotted them, but they bumped shoulders as they walked. “But I like this place too, now.”

“Well, that's good. I'm going in the water, you joining me?” Patrick shook his head, but laughed as Pete pulled his t-shirt off and threw it at Patrick before bounding into the water. The water was warm, but he needed it to wake up his senses. He needed something to do to calm his crazy impulse control or he'd end up doing something really shitty about the adrenaline kicking up a riot in his chest.

“You looked like a crazy fool,” Patrick said, fifteen minutes later. Pete had been splashing around by himself, swimming in the bright blue. Patrick looked him up and down as Pete shook his soaked hair, so he wasn't complaining too much.

When they got up to their hotel room Pete bagged the shower, but he heard the door go not long after he switched the water on. Patrick stepped into the shower with him, smiling sheepishly. He curled his hands over Pete’s cheeks and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Let me,” Patrick said calmly, grabbing the shampoo from the side. He lathered it in Pete’s hair, face way more serious than it needed to be. Pete pressed his thumb to the indent below Patrick's bottom lip and waited for him to smile. He did, pushing Pete’s hair under the spray to rinse. “I needed to do something.”

“Calm down, Patrick.” Pete knew he should probably take his own advice more often, though his nerves had lessened once he'd been into the water. Patrick didn't necessarily calm down, but Pete let Patrick wash him, moving the soapy cloth over his body with fierce concentration until they were both clean and coconut smelling.

Pete had booked a romantic meal out on the beach because he had promised it would be a fancy-ass getaway. He wasn't entirely sure that Patrick would even eat, if he had room with the nerves inside, but there were candles and the sea was so calming that Pete felt like his mind was being washed away with it.

“What kinda food do you even have during sex?” Patrick said. Pete hadn't been listening, had zoned off and Patrick must've known because he rolled his eyes as he restarted his conversation. “You said you're into food during sex, but what? Sweet stuff? Fruit? Nothing too sticky, I guess.”

“Whipped cream is a good starting point, straight from the can.”

Patrick's frown intensified. “But doesn't it just make you sick?”

“No, dumbass, because you're too busy building up an orgasm to care about feeling queasy.”

“Okay.” Patrick took a sip of his wine. “I don't think I'd like anything savory in the bedroom though. It might confuse things.”

Pete found himself on a roll, drunk off the fruity wine and warm atmosphere. “Sweet stuff is good. Sweet syrup on a sweet Stump. Sweet syrup on a sweet Stump ru--”

“No, don't finish that,” Patrick laughed. “My last name is a devil.”

“It's cute. At least you've relaxed a little.”

“I am relaxed,” Patrick said, laughing sweetly at Pete. “For now at least.”

Dinner basically felt like a precursor for the main event, as lovely as it was. Patrick drank more wine than he ordinarily would and it put a hazy flush on his cheeks. Pete loved looking at his face these days. How he hadn't ever seen anything past platonic for years he didn't know.

“Can we do it tonight? I just wanna get it over with,” Patrick said once they made it back to their hotel room. “I really want it, but the nerves make it so much more intense so if I can just go--”

“Patrick, go take a shower. Go do your routine, and meet me in here when you're ready.” Pete was nervous too, but not to the extent Patrick was. In his mind they'd already been so intimate together there wasn't much else to worry about. Pete was good at sex, good at making people come hard, and it was less about that with Patrick. He just didn't want this sex act to have been tainted before they even began. 

Patrick was as long as he normally was in the shower. Pete knew he had a routine down, to stop him lingering as he had in the past. He shampooed, cleaned his body with a cloth from ears to toes, working all the way down in the same order every time before rinsing off. Ten minutes later he was done. It was a routine that couldn't even go wrong and Pete knew it settled him normally, it was probably the monotony of it. 

When he came back into the room he was wrapped in a towel, hair dripping wet. Pete laughed, reaching up as Patrick sat down. 

“Will you ever learn to dry off properly?” he grabbed the towel from Patrick's waist and rubbed it gently over his hair until it had at least stopped dripping. 

“Sorry,” Patrick said. “Hey did you bring whipped cream?”

Pete laughed, dropping the towel. He looked down at Patrick's body, enjoying the sheer nakedness. 

“No. I figured we should keep things basic. Just plain sex. Work out positions you're happy with.”

“I'm pretty high maintenance,” Patrick laughed, ducking his head to Pete's shoulder. Pete slid an arm around his damp skin, holding him close. 

“It's no bad thing. We'll just experiment, see what's good.” 

“I really want you to fuck me tonight, “ Patrick's voice was thick again, lust and nerves coiled up. “When I was in the shower I touched myself…pushed my fingers inside hoping it was you.”

So much for his strict shower routine. “Fuck yeah. Okay. I'm down with that.”

Pete pulled his own clothes off as Patrick laid back on the bed. Patrick's feet twitched nervously on the bed as Pete dropped down to their open suitcase, grabbing what they'd need. 

“I wasn't this nervous when I lost my virginity with a girl,” Patrick joked, putting a hand on his chest. 

“Different circumstances,” Pete shrugged. “Come here and give me a kiss.” 

Patrick sat up, kissing at Pete's chin, then both cheeks, his nose, before Patrick guided him to his mouth. They fell backwards on the bed and Pete laid between Patrick's hips, making sure he wasn't pressing down. 

Pete could feel how fast Patrick's heart was beating in his chest and he tried to relax him by stroking a hand through his hair. He knew, though, that Patrick wasn't going to be calming down anytime soon. 

“Just think,” Pete said, sliding down Patrick's body. He pressed a kiss to the center of Patrick's chest, grazing his teeth over a nipple before sinking further down. Patrick's stomach jolted beneath him, but Pete went with it, keeping everything so gently and calm. “What were you thinking about in the shower?”

“Uh.” Patrick watched Pete, still relaxed as Pete moved until one of Patrick's legs was over his shoulder. “You. Having you with me. Holding me as we fuck.” Patrick stopped and laughed nervously. “It's probably too sappy for anything you'd like. I'm a romantic.”

“I can be,” Pete said, kissing the inside of Patrick's thigh. He looked at Patrick laid out on the bed, legs open, one over his shoulder. “There's something I wanna try with you. I'm good at it, I think you'll like it.”

“Does it involve whipped cream?” Patrick asked, biting his lip as Pete traced the back of his knee with his tongue. A golden green spot. 

“Not today it doesn't, but it could,” Pete was open to adaptations. He dropped Patrick's leg and flopped down again, mouthing at Patrick's belly. He traced his tongue around his belly button, his thumb riding Patrick's cleft. He could feel Patrick getting hard, but he didn't focus on that. 

“I want you to trust me,” Pete said softly, looking up at Patrick. Patrick nodded his head, skin starting to pink up so deliciously. It wouldn't be long before Pete could sink inside him. It's what he'd wanted for so long. 

Today though, he'd decided against it for now. Patrick would still get fucked, would still come, but just in a different way. 

Pete lowered his mouth, teasing the head of Patrick's dick before he pulled away, hands pushing at Patrick's thighs until they were settled over both his shoulders. He didn't break eye contact with Patrick as he lowered himself down further, tongue tracing down between Patrick's cheeks before delving inside. 

“Oh shit!” Patrick cried out as Pete sunk his tongue inside his ass, his lips pressed as close between Patrick's thick cheeks as he could. He liked it, Pete could tell from the way he'd lifted his hips up off the bed. 

He moved out to take a breath, tracing the tip of his tongue in light circles against Patrick, feeling the muscles quiver under his touch. As he looked up, Patrick was giving a wondrous look, teeth clamped over his bottom lip. 

Pete sucked on two of his fingers before he leaned down again, using his thumbs to part Patrick’s cheeks, sliding in where he was pink and waiting. 

“Oh fuck, that's so good,” Patrick whispered. There was movement above Pete's head, Patrick touching his cock as Pete's tongue made room for his fingers. He massaged Patrick's most intimate place, drinking in the noises Patrick made, leaking against the bed himself. One day he'd make his way inside. Patrick needed the edge taken off before he was ready to lose it that way. 

He was physically falling apart, Pete could tell. He was _loud._ Thick bubbling noises falling from his lips as Pete ate him out, fingers pushed up against all the places Pete knew he liked. Patrick liked two fingers more than one, he knew that, moving deeper rather than tentative quick movements. 

“Pete, _please._ ” Hearing Patrick beg his name as he came was totally euphoric bliss. He nudged against Pete's ego _and_ his dick. As Patrick came, Pete still lapped at his ass, stroking himself quick and hard. Tonight wasn't about him, they'd have other nights where they'd be more in sync, but he was still high from it and he still came. When he did, he pressed a kiss to the inside of one of Patrick's shaking knees before dragging himself up the bed. 

“Wow,” Patrick said. “I didn't know you was gonna do that.”

“I know. That's why I did it.” Pete held his hand out and Patrick wrapped his fingers around his wrist, feeling Pete's pulse like he always wanted. “It was one of my hidden kinks. If you're a good boy I'll eat your pretty little ass out whenever you like.”

“You know I like it when you call me a good boy,” Patrick slurred on a laugh. He looked _high._ Pete hadn't ever seen him this happy after sex, he was usually tentatively happy. “It's so weird.”

“S’not weird. It's hilarious,” Pete joked. He wrapped an arm over Patrick bringing him in close. All he wanted to do was cuddle naked with Patrick, in their fancy little Jamaican hotel room. “I knew you'd like it. You can tell, or I can, if someone's into that. Knew you'd be into having your ass eaten.”

“You've opened the can of worms now,” Patrick teased. “But you still didn't get to fuck me.”

“We will do. Now you've lost the edge of adrenaline, you'll be more relaxed,” Pete said. “Plus I got to eat your ass, I can deal with that for tonight.”

“Me too,” Patrick said, tucking his head to Pete's neck. “I can't wait for you to do it again.”

 

They were arguing again by the next morning. Pete wanted to do something adrenaline fueled, because he could be a bit of a junkie like that, but Patrick was refusing to be pestered into riding dual jet skis together. When Pete had offered to share a banana boat with him, he’d gone into a complete huff and wandered off on his own. 

Pete had fun by himself. He jet skied across the bright blue, breathing the excitement down into his lungs and screaming as loud as he could. He half wished Patrick was there with him, but they never matched up on things like this. Patrick’s idea of heaven was probably some form of live jazz with good company. Maybe Pete would have to make it up to him. 

Pete had the best time alone. To be fair, Patrick would have hated it. He whined the one time Pete put him on a baby coaster five years ago, this was way more thrilling than that. He was almost sad when his time was up and he headed away from the beach on jellied legs. 

Pete waited for Patrick to arrive back in the hotel room, and then when he did he was stuck listening to Patrick ramble about the cute little marketplace he found. 

“And I got this wooden turtle and the guy carved Bronx onto the shell.” Pete looked up from browsing his phone just in time for Patrick to shove the aforementioned turtle under his nose. 

“I didn't know Bronx liked turtles,” Pete laughed, but Patrick shrugged dismissively. 

“He likes _ninja_ turtles. I'll just say he's Michelangelo. I think he'll love it.” Patrick sounded confident so Pete went along with it. “Did you have fun by yourself?”

“I was amazing. You'd have hated it, but dude, I fucking ruled.” Pete smiled, watching Patrick roll his eyes. “Go get washed up. We're going out tonight.”

Pete had just enough time to Google live jazz bars in the area as Patrick showered before they headed out. 

He dragged Patrick through the streets until they were into the club. He didn't say where they were going until they were there, and then it was just fucking awesome to see Patrick's eyes light up. 

“See I'm not an entire ass!” Pete insisted as he bought their drinks, watching people pile into the club. 

“Not an entire one, no,” Patrick teased, leaning in briefly. They weren't affectionate in public, but it didn't matter. They had the hotel room for anything heavy. 

Okay, so Patrick enjoying himself was always fun to watch. The moment the band came out and the sax was in full swing, Patrick was clapping his hands in excitement, elbowing Pete to show him various things around the bar and just laughing and dancing. 

He never saw him like that at home, but then, Pete never really thought to take him out to shows like this. Maybe he needed a change in perspective. 

“You know, I was thinking earlier,” Pete said, when there was a lull in live music and people were escaping for bathroom breaks. Patrick turned to him, the roots of his hair damp with sweat. “I was thinking about how you and I have, like, nothing in common. But there's so much I could do on this vacation with Brendon.”

“Where are you going with this?” Patrick's smile stiffened, his body firming from his casual position. 

“Nowhere bad, I promise!” Pete knocked their glasses together and subtly slid his hand to Patrick's back, thumb resting against Patrick's spine. His skin was wet beneath his t-shirt. “It just got me thinking that you can have everything in the world in common with one person and yet still want the guy you butt heads with at every opportunity. Even if we didn't do anything together this vacation, it'd still be miles better with you than him.”

“Okay,” Patrick laughed nervously, body softening. “Still makes me uncomfortable talking about Brendon.”

“Yeah, sorry. Just felt like I should tell you,” Pete laughed, moving his hand away when the room started to fill up again. 

 

Maybe it was because Pete took him to the club the night before but Patrick insisted he'd do something that Pete wanted the next day. He hardly complained at all when Pete said he wanted to rent a speedboat. He snacked on a basket of fruit that he'd picked up from the hotel as they wandered up and down the marina.

“You don't have a license, you're not gonna get one,” Patrick told him, forking a chunk of melon into his mouth. “We could just hire a private one, have someone take us out. That would be safer.”

“That would be boring.” Pete turned, pulling Patrick gently down the marina. Patrick was right, the more official looking hire tours probably wouldn't let him close without a license, but further away from the hubbub, there were a few quieter, less official looking ports. “I'll tip well. Plus, you know, I can do it. I'll just stay close.”

“I don't know...” Patrick hesitated, but Pete just adjusted the cap on his head and marched closer to the quieter docks.

Pete's plan worked. He got a small boat and a quick run through the controls. It wasn't hard and there was an obvious perimeter he knew not to steer away from. Patrick still didn't look sure, and was the first to pull on a life-jacket.

“I hope we don't die,” Patrick told Pete as he sat heavy onto one of the seats, his eyes squeezed shut. “I did not go through the shit I have to have you murder me.”

“You're such a drama queen,” Pete laughed, starting the engine. He laughed with glee at the rumbling sound, as the man un-anchored them from the port. 

To be fair, it was a pretty bumpy start and Pete was scared to fuck things up, but he got into a rhythm and Patrick's eyes finally opened. It was better than yesterday on the jet skis. Patrick trusted Pete enough to stand up slightly, staring out into the bright sunshine, his arm over Pete as he steered them. Pete stopped for a while, just to take it all in.

Patrick's skin was turning red, even beneath his cap, and his lips were flushed from the strawberries he'd been eating. Pete snagged a handful of fruit before Patrick finished the lot, and then chased a few kisses from Patrick.

Getting back to the marina was the awkward bit. Pete just wanted to make out with Patrick under the heavy sun, tasting sweet fruit between their lips and trying to goad and tease Patrick into taking things a little further. He didn't want to crash it into the pier, but he did alright and he gave the guy a little more money, just to say sorry if he, like, burned the engine out completely.

They spent the afternoon on the private beach. Patrick had smeared himself in sunscreen again and was reading a book he'd stolen from their hotel room. Pete was just napping, trying to remember the last time he went on a vacation this cool.

“We should remember this. If the band is a success, we won't get time off like this for a long while,” Pete said, peeling his eyes open. 

"Can't remember the last time I went on a vacation anyway. I don't do it too often,” Patrick answered. “Guess I never thought to.”

“Well, we both needed one.” Pete smiled at Patrick before shutting his eyes again. 

 

There was no pretense that night; no giggling awkwardly around the fact that they'd both silently decided they wanted it then. Pete had laid out condoms and lube on the side, open but not obviously. Patrick had looked to them briefly before looking away, up into Pete’s eyes.

“So how do we…” Patrick started to say, hands on Pete's shoulder. Pete had taken a step back and played the green light game again. It just seemed like a good idea considering what they'd be doing. Patrick had been green nearly everywhere, only red in the places he always was. He had the desperation now, without the bursting adrenaline. 

“I have an idea.” Pete laid back on the bed, letting Patrick sit up against him. They were naked but they nearly always were in the hotel room. Patrick had lost some of his more sensible inhibitions while in Jamaica, and Pete hoped it continued back home. “You should ride me.”

“Uh. No.” Patrick's face immediately screwed up. “No, not for my first time.”

“But I feel like it might be for the best. You get all the control, we get to be face to face.  No pressure.” Of all the things to go wrong that night, Pete didn't think they'd be arguing about positions. “You'd be good at it. You're already a little boss.”

“I'm not ruling it out, just it's not the way I wanna lose it with you. Not the first time. I want it to be something you take because I want you to. I dunno, there's a lot more mental shit going on than I realized.” Patrick ended on an embarrassed laugh. Pete just took a breath and tried to sort through the current crisis. 

“You wanna be more passive? Okay, that's fine.” No missionary because he had to lean his weight on Patrick for that. No doggy-style because that would be way too degrading and unromantic. “Maybe we could spoon?”

“I wanna have sex,” Patrick said, but Pete just laughed at him. 

“No, you idiot. I meant it as a position. Jeez, are you sure you've got any experience? You're like a legit novice about all of this.”

“I'm not. I just never really discussed positions with my exes. We just went with it.” Patrick shrugged. “It never used to be a big deal like it is now.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Sex had always been important to Pete, more than relationships, but he’d never had to actually think shit over like he does now. “We’ll try it, alright? See how it goes.”

“We are pretty fucking good at spooning,” Patrick joked, looking down as he smiled. Pete could tell he was still embarrassed about his over analysis, but it didn’t matter. Patrick laid down, pulling on Pete’s wrist. It didn't take any effort to fall into Patrick’s kisses. Warm lips and a wet precise tongue that eased its way into Pete’s mouth.

“Do you want me to eat you out first?” Pete asked when he had enough sense to draw breath. He kissed Patrick’s shoulder. He was already prepared to kiss his way down Patrick’s body as he shook his head.

“I might come if you do,” Patrick admitted. “I like it a little too much.”

“You wanna come with me inside you?” Pete asked and Patrick nodded enthusiastically and then grimaced at his eagerness. Pete just laughed, stroking his fingers against the back of Patrick’s thigh, down to the bend behind his knee. Patrick's eyes became dark with lust, so quick to _react_ these days. 

“I just want it to be simple right now, nothing flamboyant or anything, Pete. This is really overwhelming.” Patrick didn’t sound like he was about to freak out, so Pete just nodded, wriggling until he was spooned up behind Patrick. 

“I guess flying out to Jamaica to do this is grandiose enough.” Pete pressed a kiss to Patrick’s shoulder, leaning behind himself to grab the lube and condoms from the side and bringing them closer. 

“I’m gonna get a sore neck from this position,” Patrick said, as he twisted his head over his shoulder to kiss Pete. Pete groaned, somehow knowing Patrick would find something to bitch about. It broke the tension, as Pete’s arm slid over his stomach. 

It was awkward kissing like that, Patrick twisting behind himself and Pete trying to keep his balance without falling onto him. Patrick straddling him would have been a much better option but-- he was working with what was wanted. He wouldn't complain. 

“I'm gonna start with my fingers,” Pete mumbled. Patrick laughed, though Pete didn't understand why. He moved his hand from Patrick's waist to fumble for the lube. Pete could do a lot of things one handed, particularly when it came to sex and he poured the slick over his fingers and watched Patrick's face. 

He'd turned over onto his side again, back curved, knees tucked to his chest. It was a good position for Pete to get access to him, but he was Good Pete these days. He was attentive instead of selfish. 

“Anytime you wanna stop,” Pete said, dry hand lightly stroking Patrick's hair. Patrick shifted back an inch, to show his willingness for affection and Pete took it as his opportunity to wiggle closer. He managed to sidle one arm under Patrick's head, his slick fingers balanced on Patrick's hip. It was how they slept or how Pete often woke up, dead arm an added bonus most times.

“I don't wanna stop. I want you to start,” Patrick whispered. His voice was thick and heavy, like it often was when he was aroused. “I was just taking a breather. I know this part, remember. We've done it a lot.”

“Yeah, but it's different.” Fingering had always been the end game, unless they used a toy, but it _was_ different. This was Patrick's second experience with anal sex with a dude. It had to be the complete opposite of before. 

“I'm ready.” Patrick pushed his ass back into Pete and that was enough for him. Pete moved his wet fingers between their body, stroking gently down Patrick, until he met with the usual resistance. He made reassuring noises, stroking over Patrick, until his tension slipped slightly, making room inside his body for Pete's fingers. 

Patrick gasped like a cliché, but Pete liked that about him. Patrick was kind, and he cried at dumb movies and he gasped during sex. He was the best cliche ever. Pete loved all of him for all of those reasons. 

They were getting fairly used to this. Pete would keep his fingers tucked firm and still at first, before Patrick would tell him to move. It never took long for Patrick to buck against his movements, to seek Pete's fingers deeper inside himself. It may have taken a while to get there, but Pete knew he'd be a good bottom. He'd known it from the start. 

Somehow Patrick had managed to twist his head back around without complaining and they were kissing again, tongues seeking lips and Patrick's lashes catching against Pete's cheek whenever they bumped noses. Pete fingered Patrick as he kissed him, and honestly, he could've stayed like that for longer if Patrick didn't break the kiss. 

“We both want this. Do it,” Patrick was being low-key demanding and Pete liked it, even if it went against his usual bedroom preferences. That was Patrick all over though. 

Pete's fingers slipped out and he rolled onto his back, surprised to see that he was harder than expected. He thought he'd need to jerk himself off a little more, to get hard enough for the condom, but as he came back to his senses, he realized he was already good to go. 

“Fuck, that's hot.” Pete looked up as Patrick spoke. He'd just rolled the condom down his dick, the foil pinched between his teeth. Patrick was staring at him, ass a little shiny from the lube Pete had messily smeared, and panting from everything else that had just happened. 

“You gonna be my good boy? You gonna tell me exactly what you want and why?” Pete said, watching Patrick's face turn red. It was hot, and maybe a little wrong, to be bringing the teasing words to the first time they fuck, but Patrick was so openly turned on by it and Pete was good at being dominant. Patrick had made it clear that he wanted to be led through it that night, that he wanted Pete to _take_ him, rather than control things himself. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. 

“I just want you the way I always wanted you. To have you fuck me like I always wished. Finally getting what I always wanted.” 

If he'd realized, Pete could have fucked every variation of Patrick. Too young, with Bambi eyes and a trucker cap, to plump with cartoon shoes and bad hair. Maybe if he'd gone to one of Patrick's solo shows he could have had him at his most angry and dark. They could have gone to a sick place, let Pete's dominant side seep out over Patrick's unquenchable sadness. 

No, that wasn't them anymore. This was them now, fucked up, in over their heads and too old for the dramatics they'd played out over the years. 

“This is the best time to do it,” Pete said, and it came out way softer than he planned. Enough so that he cleared his throat. He wanted to be back against Patrick though, _inside him._ He did as he wanted, feeling Patrick push back with eagerness. 

Patrick didn't seem nervous, not really, as Pete gently lined himself up. This would be their first time and he wanted it to be special. Maybe it could be special just because they'd waited so long, Pete didn't know how else to make it good. It would go as well as Patrick's mental stability would allow them to. 

“It's just fire alarms,” Patrick said beneath his breath, as Pete thrust as gentle as he could. Patrick wasn't as tense as expected and actually pushed back for the last few inches. Pete just stroked his stomach, face pressed to the back of Patrick's head. He was tight, so tight, and Pete needed to control himself. 

“Oh, you feel so good. So so good,” Pete said. It felt important to tell Patrick. He kissed the nape of Patrick's neck, knowing that was the only area he could. 

“You feel big,” Patrick murmured, and then giggle-groaned. Pete hissed, Patrick's clenching almost too much. “Can you move?”

“I was giving you time to adjust,” Pete said through gritted teeth, unsure whether he was into Patrick's bossy side in the bedroom. Still he rocked his hips forward, pressed tight to Patrick's back. Then he drew back, but Patrick made a noise in the back of his throat, and shifted his ass back with him. 

“This is too much,” Patrick choked, sounding not quite panicked, rather desperate instead. Pete misunderstood, and went to pull out, but Patrick slapped a hand behind himself, to grab at Pete's hip. “Don't just stay still, I need you to fuck me so I'm not stuck on a cliff trying to go over.”

“That's not how good boys talk. You should say please,” Pete said, which was tasteless for the mood they'd tried to set themselves, but he didn't want Patrick sassing him at this point. 

“Please fuck me,” Patrick said immediately, voice catching. His hand was moving over his own dick, bringing it back to life, but Pete didn't mind. He started to rock his hips. Patrick liked deep rather than quick when it came to fingering, and so Pete tried it out to see if sex was the same. He thrusted until his groin was flush with Patrick's ass, until he heard the thick groan fall from Patrick's lip. 

“Good boy,” Pete said and Patrick tightened as he twisted, wanting to kiss Pete some more. This was not the kind of sex Pete was used to having, spooned up behind someone, making out with them in his arms as he fucked them slow and hard. 

Patrick came first which is what Pete wanted. It was sooner than he expected, and it caught them both off guard, Patrick's teeth catching Pete's lips before he shifted his head back, pressed himself all the way flat to Pete, buried as tight as he could. 

Pete forced himself to come quicker than he'd have liked, unsure whether he would be welcome to use Patrick's body to the length it would take, or finish of in his own hand. Honestly it wasn't much effort, just Patrick slick and tight around him, out of breath and sweaty was enough for Pete. He had his face buried in Patrick's hair, fingers digging into Patrick's soft belly, his other hand stroking gently at Patrick's cheek. 

Patrick made a soft noise as Pete pulled out, but it was better soon than later. He tossed the condom and shut his eyes, letting Patrick curl himself up around Pete, his own breathing just as erratic. 

Patrick couldn't settle for long and had to rush off for a shower a minute or so later. Pete let him go, to clean up and sort out his head-space, whatever it was he needed to do. Pete wouldn't judge him for it, wouldn't pester Patrick about how he was feeling. He just closed his eyes.

When Pete had dozed for around twenty minutes, and Patrick still wasn't back from the shower, Pete figured maybe he should show his face. He rubbed at his face as he sat up, before shaking off the bed sheets and folding them up again.

When he headed into the bathroom, Patrick was in the shower, face down, hair creating a funnel for the water to slide over him. He looked up when he heard Pete and opened his arms up. Pete took that as his chance and slid under the stream. Laughing when Patrick pulled him in tight. He was crying, but Pete pretended not to notice. 

“Overwhelmed again?” Pete asked. His voice echoed in the acoustics of the room and he wished he'd said it a little quieter; his voice seemed to boom around the shower walls.

“No, I'm okay,” Patrick lied, Pete knew, but whatever. Patrick was allowed to feel weird about this, when it had been such a big thing for him. “I don't really know what the matter is. Just feel a bit freaked.”

“Did you have fun though?” Pete asked, moving them out of the direct stream of water and cupping Patrick's face with his hands, thumbs pressing into his cheekbones. Patrick nodded, pushing at Pete’s chest lightly.

“Yeah, I had a bit of an issue with the--” Patrick waved his hand, and Pete tried to understand, but without words and with a foggy brain he didn't catch on. “You used a lot of lube.”

Pete laughed. “Yeah. It'd hurt a lot more otherwise. For both of us.”

“I appreciate that you did, but uh. Afterward it just felt like...not like lube. Like wet...” Patrick's face screwed up and Pete finally got it.

“Shit. That was me trying to make things better!” he laughed and Patrick did too, though he looked more than a little embarrassed. “Don't feel bad about telling me. I'll scale it back more next time.”

“It was fine when we were fucking. It was just after...” Patrick wiped at his face and groaned. “But I feel better now. We can stop pontificating in the shower.”

“Right,” Pete decided to take Patrick's word for it. Whether it was true or not, he didn't really know, but it didn't matter. Patrick seemed calmer for telling Pete about it and the smile on his face was genuine. 

Patrick didn't sleep that night, which meant that Pete didn't get very much either. He laid still with his eyes shut as Patrick tossed and turned, sometimes against Pete, sometimes facing away from him. Pete slept for maybe three hours before dawn, but he was certain Patrick didn't join him in that.

“I just didn't want to have a bad dream,” Patrick explained the next morning as they walked along the beach. “Not after we just did it. I loved it, but it feels like the kind of thing that would set it off, especially considering my semi freak-out in the shower.”

“Just try and get some tonight,” Pete said, which was bullshit coming from him, who never liked to waste time sleeping when he could be thinking up more anxious thoughts. “You're not in any pain?”

“You were gentle. I'm built of stronger stuff than it looks, Pete.” Pete interpreted Patrick's look as a smile rather than a grimace. Maybe he was flapping too much, but at least Patrick seemed relaxed, and was walking normal. “Just two more days then we get to go home. Write our record.”

“I'm excited. Like, beyond belief.”

“Same.” Patrick's smile increased, and Pete saw how genuine it was, even framed with the black circles and sunburned skin.


	8. Chapter 8

They were both happy to be home when their plane touched down in LAX. Pete had missed Bronx like crazy and Patrick was desperate to see their dog. His house was basically their safety blanket and it was good to be back.

“If the band legit gets back together, will we have to tell everyone we're a couple?” Patrick asked on their second night home. Bronx was asleep upstairs and they were chilling in front of the TV, SNL boring them half-asleep.

“Dunno. It's probably better, so that it comes from us rather than a leaked photo.” Pete always made sure when they were out together that it wasn't in an obvious place. The press was always in the same spots, if Pete didn't go to certain restaurants or blocks with Patrick, then people wouldn't really know. Any sightings fans had seen of them had mostly been excited rumblings of getting the band back together. It would be different if their comeback was a success though. People would be working harder to find out what he was up to.

“I don't want it to be a big thing. I don't want it to be like your other relationships, for it to become bigger than the band or anything. I like it the way it is now,” Patrick said, tugging on the ties of his hoodie.

“It's gonna be a bigger thing than it is now. That's just the nature of it, but I'm happy to deal with it. I'll talk to PR, see the best way to keep it lowkey.” Patrick turned to Pete. “I don't want people asking me weird questions. Like, about us.”

“People did that before we got together,” Pete joked. Patrick clearly didn't find it funny because he continued looking at Pete with serious eyes. “We can block questions like that in face-to-face interviews. You'll have to ignore them in emails or twitter.”

“What if it comes out that I was raped?” Patrick asked, and Pete was suddenly left wondering whether this was Patrick trying to find a way out of their plan or genuine fear.

“You didn't file a police report. It's been over six months so I'm guessing the hospital can't do anything with the rape kit anyway. It'll be on your medical records but those are sealed. No one is going to be looking to release those. No one will know what happened unless you decide to tell them. This won't be a completely quiet and hushed up thing, but I don't think it will cause the furor it would have five-six years ago.”

“I just wished it was easier to have everything I wanted,” Patrick said. “But I guess everyone thinks that.”

“It won't be that bad, Patrick. It will be okay.” Pete couldn't exactly promise, but he figured they'd been through a lot of shit in the last year, coming out together couldn't be worse than that.

Pete tried to put some feelers out there with his publicist. Questioned what exactly would happen if he wanted to come out with a relatively famous guy at the same time that they release an album.

“Do it together,” she told him breezily. “If you're wanting the album to be a surprise, then release the news about you and Patrick at the same time. It lessens the blow. People will be too busy listening to the new music to pay attention to the rest of it. As long as the music is good.”

“I never said it was Patrick.”

“I'm no fool, Pete. I don't think anyone else will be either.” Her voice was so bright and light. Pete hated publicists.

It was Patrick's idea for them to write in the cabin together. Pete wasn't sure at first, wondering whether being cooped up together was just asking for trouble. They were all so different and the cabin was so small. 

“Two bedrooms. The couch pulls out into a futon so there's room for Joe _and_ Andy. If we argue, we can cool off in the great outdoors. I think it will be fun,” Patrick tried to convince Pete, as they laid in bed together. 

“Well I remember what recording with you is like… not always fun.” Pete walked his finger down Patrick's stomach, watching it tense up as he mouthed at Patrick's thigh.

“Technically we won't be recording, just writing. That will come later.” Patrick was bringing enough equipment to get down any demos, but they'd record it all in a studio at a later point. 

“It's just like a second vacation, right?”

“No,” Pete laughed. It was going to be awkward at first. Dealing with Joe dealing with him. Him and Patrick trying to give up control to let the others in for once.

Shit. He had better things to do. Patrick was opening up for his mouth at that very moment. His words had been stupid, but his body was right on it. Sensitive and _willing_ for Pete's touch.

“No more talking ah-” Patrick started to say, before he choked out a groan, hand pushing on the back of Pete's head, right at where he was being eaten out. Pete didn't mind Patrick's touch, even if he had never let anyone else push him down like that. Patrick just had the magic touch.

Patrick was never long to come when he was getting his ass eaten. It was to the point that Pete sometimes had to stop it earlier than they'd want, if he wanted Patrick to last at all.

_Sex_ sex, as in fucking Patrick in the ass, wasn't something they did all the time, maybe once every few weeks, but God it had been fun trying new things. Patrick was good at riding; in their bedroom, in the den, particularly in the home cinema, when he would lean back onto the seats in front and give Pete an eye of exactly where he was buried.

“I miss the panties. Bring them back,” Pete said, drawing mouth and hands off Patrick's body when he felt he was close. Patrick's eyes narrowed, hard and pink all over. He didn't look happy, but he was so fun to fuck when he was pissy.

“Not my style,” Patrick lied, but he patted the pillow beside him, fumbling for the box of condoms before throwing them at Pete. He twisted around as Pete's fingers fumbled for a rubber. Pete watched Patrick turn over, on his knees with his hands flat to the wall. “I want it this way.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.” Pete didn't need telling twice. He slid up behind Patrick, dick pressing to the base of Patrick's spine, arms circling his stomach as he kissed his shoulder. Patrick laughed at the feeling, one arm lifting to cup behind Pete's head, twisting to the side so they could kiss. Fucking Patrick from behind was fine so long as the control was shared. This was basically spooning on their knees, only Pete could slide in deeper. Patrick _loved_ it deep and Pete loved the noises he made when he was pressed that close.

  


Before they left for three weeks’ solitude in the cabin with Joe and Andy, Pete threw another party and got absolutely wasted. He'd been feeling sick with anxiety all day, a low kind of throbbing that hurt without him feeling a damn thing.

“I'm telling you now, those clothes would look so much better on my floor,” Pete slurred at Patrick, grabbing his hips and smirking at the tiny white birds all over his navy shirt.

“Jesus, Pete. Hardly anyone's arrived yet,” Patrick said, pulling at Pete's cheeks. He looked warm, fuzzy around the edges. “Why are you so wasted?”

“Why are you so hot? You know what… you know what… Patrick. Patrick, we should have sex.” Pete started laughing, his mouth feeling wet. Patrick was pulling out of his grip, the little white birds disappearing from Pete's eyes.

Pete sat in the corner of his living room. He never used it much anyway, preferring the den for casual shit. He shut his eyes, but even then his head seemed to spin. He could hear that the party had started, could hear the familiar sound of old friends laughing, the sound of his stereo being turned up. He wanted to curl up under the fort he'd built in the playroom that week and have Patrick tell him dumb trivia facts like he used to. There was nothing like Patrick's warm voice to calm him down.

“It's not a party without the main dude.” Pete stirred at the voice. Brendon, playful but dark in tone. Pete got that even through his hysteria. “What's up?”

“Just wired,” Pete said. He felt Brendon sit next to him, smelling like weed, cologne and hairspray. Pete caught a drunken vision of the two of them, Brendon on his knees, like he always was, catching hold of Pete’s every move with the twist of his mouth, the curl of his tongue. “I feel like I've stepped back in time. Like, how I used to feel at parties.”

“You on something?” Brendon asked, sounding serious. Pete shook his head, even though it hurt.

“Been drunk since the afternoon. Don't even know where Patrick is.”

“He's talking to the guys from his band.” Brendon doesn't add the part about Patrick sleeping with those guys on tour like he did last time. “You get on with them?”

“Uh. Yeah. I mean, I don't really know them but they make him happy. They were there when I wasn't…” Pete's hand floated above his head. He wasn't really sure what he was doing, he felt way drunker than he should.

“The main question is…” Brendon leaned in. Pete peeled his eyes open, hoping Brendon wasn't gonna try and kiss him or anything. He didn't, but his dark eyes were alight with something bad. “What's the sex like?”

“Good.” Pete rubbed at his face, wondering whether he was an asshole for discussing it or not. It’s what guys do, he figured, in the drunken trip he was on. “He's fair game, he likes it when I eat him out. He likes to ride dick.”

“You give him that much control?” Brendon snorted, somehow linking it back to himself and how it was never like that with him.

“He… you know he's not one to roll over,” Pete said, and then laughed. “I love him. I love it when he rolls over.”

“He’s a fucking twink these days.” Brendon’s tone changed, like he could no longer deal with listening to Pete discuss his sex life with Patrick any longer. “I mean, he was when I toured with him, but now he's all soft and quiet. All those fucking cardigans and that sensible haircut. He looks like a goddamn librarian.”

_Because he got raped_. Pete wanted to say. _He changed the way he looked because he thought it was to blame._ Even in his drunken haze he knew he shouldn't though, so he just shrugged his shoulder.

“He doesn't look like a librarian,” Pete insisted faintly, but Brendon was wired beside him, like teasing Patrick was bringing him out of his bad mood.

“He so looks like a librarian. I bet he's real dirty when you bend him over. Does he call you daddy? I bet he's into that shit, I know you would be and I'm not even into him.” Pete’s head started to whurr in a bad way. He didn't want to be talking like this with Brendon.  
He wanted to be at this party, but tucked away with Patrick, up in the fort they built in the playroom.

“You need to shut up,” Pete said, stumbling to his feet. He'd been sitting on his ass way too long that the whole world flipped upside down before he was up again.

“I probably should yeah…” Brendon said, but his voice was quiet after that and anyway, Pete was using his palm against the wall to guide him to Patrick and away from potential bad decisions.

He was used to bad vision; bad drinking and bad parties. It had been years since his last now, but you never forgot. He wanted the same thing now as he did then.

“Patrick!” Pete found him, or at least he found the blue shirt with white blob shaped swallows. “Patrick.”

“You didn't sober up?” Patrick's voice came out smooth, but his hands were on Pete's neck, cool against his wet skin. “We having a bad night, huh?”

“I just wanna escape with you. Let's run away together.”

“This is our house,” Patrick laughed. Pete was being walked carefully by Patrick, out of the room and back into the quiet.

“Let's hide out in Bronx’s fort. Just the two of us at this dumb party.” Pete's eyes couldn't focus, but he felt better for having Patrick's hands on him, guiding him out of the hub and carefully up the stairs.

“You shouldn't have got drunk tonight knowing you were having anxiety,” Patrick told Pete. He knew they were in the playroom, when the temperature cooled and he heard Patrick trip on something squeaky.

“I shouldn't do the things I often do,” Pete said, wishing he had the focus to stare at Patrick's ass as he got down on his knees and crawled into the fort. In the end, he crashed to his own knees, falling on soft blankets as he wiggled under the tent, pressing up until their sides were touching completely.

“One of my favorite things is being alone with you when there's a house full of people outside,” Patrick said softly.

“This is just like a scene from a movie. Like lots of movies,” Pete rambled, feeling better in a cool room with little light and Patrick pressed beside him. “I'm sorry for making this like before. Like years ago. I used to depend on you so much…. Doing the same now.”

“I was never as dependable as you thought, at least not to anyone else. Only you thought of me that way, but I liked it.” Patrick’s voice faded out, but Pete was certain he hadn’t missed any of it. “I wanted you to depend on me. A way to be noticed maybe.”

“Now we’re all different,” Pete said. Now he was alone with Patrick, he felt clearer in his thoughts. Still drunk, but lighter. “It's the same old people coming to the same old parties, but it feels different.”

“Probably ‘cause you’re different.” Patrick rolled over, Pete felt it even if he couldn’t see him. He felt a hand rest on his chest and he ran his fingers over Patrick’s knuckles, enjoying Patrick’s touch. Patrick’s hand moved until he was stroking Pete’s hair. Pete tried to imagine Patrick reaching in and cooling his hot-as-fire brain and all the thoughts passing through. It helped a little, and he moved into Patrick’s touch.

“I always found you at the parties, but it’s different now. Found you in a different way.” Pete sort of wanted to cry, like he was on the cusp of an overwhelming revelation. “Found you in the best way.”

“Are you on anything other than alcohol?” Patrick asked quietly, his fingers still gently teasing Pete’s scalp. “Did someone slip you something?”

“This is just me on vodka, no food and a sick brain,” Pete admitted. “Anxiety and booze. I‘ll be fixed in the morning.”

“You’ll be hung over in the morning,” Patrick corrected, but if this was like any of Pete’s other blips, he’d just sleep the day away and pray that two days’ time would be a better place for him. It should be.

“I was talking to Brendon earlier,” Pete changed the subject, feeling Patrick curl up against him. That was better than any other feeling, even fucked up as he was. “We started talking about what sex was like between you and me.”

“You know, you don’t have to tell me what you talk about. By the sounds of it, I don’t really wanna know,” Patrick said. Pete laughed because it sounded funny hearing Patrick talk so dismissively.

“He says you look like a dirty librarian these days,” Pete carried on, hearing Patrick scoff. Thinking about the buildup of cardigans in the closet, maybe there was a little truth in his words. “He also said you look like you call me daddy in bed.”

“I’m gonna take a hard pass on that,” Patrick drawled. They were both silent before Patrick laughed beneath his breath. “How does someone even _look_ like they’d say that? Doesn’t make sense.”

“Dunno,” Pete said. It made him laugh too, even if he was too out of it to understand. He tried to put his arm over Patrick, but he hit him in the head instead. Patrick took the wandering hand and wrapped his fingers around Pete’s wrist. “We both think you look like a twink now though. We agreed on that. I hope he doesn’t want a threesome. I‘ve already let him down enough, you know. You might have to tell him that part.”

“I don’t think he wants a threesome.” Patrick was laughing, but Pete wasn’t with it enough to know why. He laughed along anyway, feeling Patrick’s lips against the wrist he was still holding. Patrick’s lips were soft and his touch was gentle, but that’s all Pete needed as he faded out. He could still hear the rumbling bass, faint in his son’s playroom, under the safety of the fort. The rest of it stopped mattering a while back.

  


Pete went to bed for two days and awoke feeling human, if a little groggy. He didn't have much memory of what he'd done at the party, just an uneasiness that he may have fucked up somehow. He scheduled a fresh appointment with Joanna for later in the day, just to deal with the thoughts in his head and managed to pull himself into the shower.

After cleaning up, and brushing the fur from his teeth he found his way downstairs, trying to seek out Patrick. He found him in the office that he'd taken over as he'd started to get back into music. Patrick was on the couch, eyes shut and with headphones snapped over his ears. It'd be a bad move to make him jump, Pete knew that much, so he just sat in the abandoned study chair, waiting until Patrick's eyes peeled open as the song ended.

“Oh hey,” Patrick said predictably, as the music faded and his eyes opened. “You feeling better?”

“Kinda.” Pete stood up and immediately headed for the couch, shifting Patrick's legs so he could lay down, head in his lap. Patrick's fingers found his hair, teasing his scalp lightly. “I'm outta the storm, but now just super faded.”

“You remember anything of the party?”

“No,” Pete admitted. “Just the getting wasted beforehand.”

“Bad idea,” Patrick said, but his voice wasn't chiding and his hands were working wonders in Pete’s hair. “You were pretty out of it. I'm glad you don't remember the conversation with Brendon.”

“Shit. What happened?” Pete suddenly had a vision of something terrible. Patrick was being affectionate so it couldn't have been anything adulterous, but still, knowing how open Brendon was with his feelings, and how out of it Pete could get, he wouldn't be surprised if he seriously fucked up.

“No, it wasn't anything that bad. Just...I dunno. You don't have to recite all the information he tells you to me. I told you that night, but you don't remember and I'm sure as fuck not repeating it. I trust you around him, you don't need to prove anything to me.”

“Oh man, I really shouldn't drink like that, I just couldn't stop myself,” Pete said, which was shitty, but he'd been on a good run for going on a year. One dip wouldn't end him; he knew that much.

“You're fine. You would have been fine; you just went down on the wrong day that's all. If we hadn't thrown a party, I'm sure you wouldn't have got trashed that way. It's unfortunate, but you'll get up again.” Pete never wanted to go back to the way it was before, where he was leaning too much on Patrick, and not letting him live life himself, but it was so awesome knowing that he had Patrick's support still, through everything.

“I booked an emergency session with Joanna. I wanna get this all cleared up before we head out to the cabin.” Pete rubbed at his face, feeling somewhat better for talking to Patrick. He knew he needed to spill everything out to his shrink, to get into the headspace for music once more.


	9. Chapter 9

Joanna never looked surprised to see Pete, even on bookings that hadn't been penciled in officially. She just smiled professionally at him, one leg crossed over the other as he sat with his head in his hands. He didn't even bother with a hello, just slid right to the point. 

“I just started to get anxiety about the band, creating new music together and I didn't know what to do! I knew I was throwing a party later that day and I just started thinking back, stupidly, to what I did in the past. Minus the drugs, obviously.” Pete paused, already feeling better for talking it out. He couldn't do this with Patrick. He couldn't be as open. They had different people for that now. 

“So I just started drinking until it felt like the past. Then it was just a bad trip, I guess. I don't remember much, I slept it off for a few days and now I just feel this sickening guilt, even though I didn't fuck up too badly.”

“What do you mean by too badly?”

“In the past when I got to that point, I usually found someone to climb inside of, to wreck whatever good I had going in my life. Brendon was there and we were talking about Patrick apparently. Just sounds like trouble. Like something I would've done before.”

Joanna never missed a beat. “And that worries you?”

“Maybe. Kinda. I don't wanna be the douche that tells Brendon what happened to Patrick. There's a fucking weird rivalry between them. Maybe they're both competing, but Patrick already won and then it's fucked because I'm not a great catch. Patrick's been in love with me forever, I get that now, but I just feel like it's a lot to live up to.” Pete's head was spinning and spinning with the tangled threads of anxiety. He just waited for her to pull on one to help him unravel. 

“What would Patrick say to this?”

“That I'm overthinking shit. Which is the same shit I say to him day in and day out.” Pete had to laugh at the irony. “I know I need to talk to him about the stuff with Brendon, but it's an awkward topic. I feel like there's so much shit surrounding it that fucking scares me. ”

“Is that the thing that's worrying you most?” The best part about Joanna was her ability to just ask question after question and let Pete literally work things out aloud without feeling like an idiot. 

“Not really. I'm not sure if there is one overarching thing. I think whatever did or didn't happen with Brendon is maybe what's worrying me most right now, but I'm kinda worried about this trip to the cabin. I don't think Joe's come to terms with what happened. Patrick is better than he was, but he still has a lot of bad days and I'm scared about Joe's reaction to seeing Patrick like that.”

“I don't think you should be worrying about other people's thoughts and fears. Your progress and Patrick's progress after his attack should be at the forefront.”

“Yeah, I get that, but at the same time I think Joe _really_ struggled with what happened to the point he's not really got himself fixed and I'm sure… I don't know how he'll deal with Patrick. And I'm not sure how I'll deal with that kind of fall out." 

Joanna had a wry smile on her face when she asked, “What about Andy?”

“Andy is braver than us all. He's seen Patrick at some low points, he's seen me worse and I'm pretty sure Joe's spoken to him when he's been in a shit place. Andy's our guy, you know?  He gets us all, but quietly.”

“Maybe if you're finding it hard to cope with Joe and Patrick in the cabin, Andy would be happy to help you out.” This woman knew everything, Pete realized. Everything about all of them. Thank fuck he trusted her or it'd be another thing to add to the pile. 

“Of course.” Pete nodded his head, feeling himself lighten as he always did. He just needed to verbally vomit his anxiety out to his poor therapist. “I'm just thinking up worst case scenarios. Patrick's usually pretty private even when he's getting upset so I think he'll be able to hide it from Joe. I guess Patrick and I can _try_ and keep our hands to ourselves until we're in the bedroom.”

“Is that something you want to talk about?” Pete hadn't hidden much from Joanna, whether it was about the kind of sex he liked to partake in, or the cheating he'd done in the past. He'd discussed Jamaica with her as well, and that it had all gone to plan. 

“I think Patrick and I worry about the same shit when it comes to that. Though I figured he'd be more self-esteemy than he is when it came to being naked.” Pete hadn't loved Patrick like he'd been loved back for years, wasn't attracted to Patrick in that way until it hit him like a ton of bricks last year. He figured Patrick, who even before the rape, had notable body issues, would think he didn't measure up or whatever. The conversations they'd had about his issues had been more so about the rape and how it made Patrick unable to perform to the standards he thought Pete expected. “The sex we have is so different to what I'm used to that I know it bothers him. He thinks that he's too boring and that it's too vanilla, but I haven't missed the way I used to get it.” 

“I imagine the sex now is different to what Patrick was used to as well,” Joanna said, which Pete hadn't really thought about. “He's only been with women before.”

“Yeah. I think the rape swept that all aside though. Like he had to literally build up his sex drive from scratch, everything else is just wiped from memory. I also think, I mean, not to sound big headed…” Pete was already grimacing, trying to put it into less egotistical words. “Like, he's been in love with me for so long that maybe the sex he'd had in the past hadn't ever been something he'd really been super invested into. I dunno.”

She laughed, but Pete believed it. “But you're enjoying it together. As long as he gets to rebuild with positive experiences, things can only improve.”

“Yeah.” Pete nodded, knowing he was smiling like an idiot. He didn't care. Thinking about Patrick like that had lifted his spirits completely. “He likes me being dominant. It's not really aggressive though, I think he just loves that I'm experienced.”

“It's a fine line to walk, Pete,” Joanna warned, but he shrugged. It ought to be weirder than it was, talking to his shrink about his sex life. 

“Yeah it is, but I'm doing good and he enjoys it. I don't push anything and it's always about making sure he's feeling good. I'm hooked on him like crazy, I think he's amazing. I just hope I never change my stance on that.” Pete rubbed the side of his head. He didn't think he ever would, because he hadn't ever loved anyone like he did Patrick, but he couldn't be sure.

 

As with all of his therapy sessions, Pete left feeling much better, but fueled with the usual adrenaline. It was more than it had been in the last few months, maybe because he'd finally confessed to her the anxiety that had been building up in recent weeks.

When he got back home, Patrick was bustling about in the kitchen and Pete was fucking ravished. He dropped his keys on the table as Patrick threw a tray of something into the oven, before standing up.

“How was it today?” Patrick asked as he wiped his hands on a towel. Pete sidled up behind him, pressing his whole body against Patrick's back. Patrick laughed, softening into the vice-tight grip Pete had on him. That was amazing to Pete, that he could now touch Patrick in this way and he wouldn't flinch at all.

“I feel good. You know how I get afterward.” Pete kissed Patrick's shoulder, desperately wanting to touch his neck, but still having enough brain cells to stop. He slid one hand beneath Patrick's shirt, to warm soft skin as he rested it on Patrick's stomach.

“Yeah, I know.” Patrick wasn't laughing now, but he was pushing back against Pete's body, letting him know it was okay. Pete’s dick was hard, his whole body a jumble of nerve endings trying to get some kind of friction.

“All I wanna do right now is fuck you. Been thinkin' about it on the drive home. Wanna fuck you and hear those dumb little gaspy noises you make. Wanna do it here on the fucking breakfast bar.” Pete was squeezing Patrick close, desperate for as much friction as possible. It was different to with Brendon; where it was cold, calculated and over with as soon as Pete got his dick sucked.

“I was making cookies,” Patrick said slowly. He laughed at Pete's whine in his ear. “You've got fifteen minutes or they're gonna burn.”

 

Pete was definitely in a better mood later on that night. They were in the movie theater, sucking on Patrick's cookies because they'd been left in the oven too long and were too hard to bite into. They were apparently meant to be a cheer up for Pete after his downer over the past few days, but in all honesty, the sex trumped the over-baked cookies for days.

“I'm still anxious about some shit, but I do feel better for talking it out with Joanna. Thanks for looking after me these past few days. Sorry I was an ass,” Pete said, giving up on Patrick's cookie when he felt a phantom wobble of his tooth. Patrick was looking at him behind his stupidly thick glasses, blues eyes squinting in confusion.

“You haven't been an ass at all in these last few days, and in general you are kinda an asshole,” Patrick teased, but whatever, Pete knew it was true. “Kinda hard when you were asleep for most of it.”

“Well I'm sorry either way.” Pete didn't really wanna fight about it. He just wanted to cuddle up with Patrick and enjoy their last night in the house before they were holed up in the cabin.

That night, as they settled upstairs, Pete caught sight of Patrick's thighs as he stretched out on the bed. There were bruises in the shape of fingerprints. Pete had been pretty excited on the kitchen counter, but he hadn't realized how aggressive he'd been until now.

“Shit, I'm so sorry.” He touched Patrick's thigh, stroking just below the hem of his boxers. “I really am a dickhead.”

“No, you're not. Just enthusiastic,” Patrick said, laughing. His face though, was a little more cautious.

“You don't have to lie, baby. I can read it on your face.” Patrick didn't like pet-names, but he didn't call Pete out on it now.

“No, I liked it,” Patrick insisted. “There's a bit of conflict because I remember the bruises I had before, but I like that you've given them to me. I dunno. It's the same reason why I wanted to peel my skin off the weeks after the attack. It wasn't so much a reminder, but like, it felt like they'd left their mark on me. Like they owned me and ruined me.”

“Yeah and now I've gone and done the same.” Pete felt the good mood evaporate at the thought, but Patrick was shaking his head, even if he was turning a dark pink.

“No, you idiot. I _like_ that. I like that I've got these fucking bruises from you, that they're in the shape of your fucking fingertips. I hate the fact that I like it, but I do. It's like a secret or something; that I belong to you and no one else would ever know.”

“You're a weird one,” Pete said eventually, watching Patrick frown at him some more. He shrugged his shoulder, trying to find the words. “One minute you're like this little power bottom full of too much shit, the next you're saying hella submissive stuff. I like it, just never met someone that's like that.”

“Was Brendon like that?” Patrick asked, but Pete groaned. 

“No. He was just Brendon. And can we stop talking about him? I don't compare him to you in any way.” Pete couldn't deal with it anymore. It hadn't been a real issue until that morning, but now any mention of him from Patrick's lips felt analytical and wrong. 

“Sorry,” Patrick said, sounding it. He rolled over until his was facing Pete, his bruises still on show. “He just makes me jealous sometimes.” 

“Why? We're together now.” Pete asked, but Patrick's brows had folded in and his mouth had closed tightly. He'd shut down and wasn't going to answer. 

“It doesn't matter.” Patrick shut his eyes, feigning sleep instead of explaining anything else. 

 

They were too busy the next morning to deal with what could have been any residual weirdness. They were packing Pete's car up for the three week stay in the cabin, but Patrick was all smiles as he flew around, making them late.

Patrick had sent Pete out on a Starbucks run as he sorted through what equipment he wanted to take. Caffeine was only going to amp up Pete anxiety, but Patrick was in the same boat. Pete hadn't seen him eat anything aside from half a cookie the night before. They were both hilariously screwed up these days. 

“I was thinking tonight that maybe I'll take Joe out for dinner to defuse any awkwardness before it sets in,” Patrick said, as Pete finally got them on the road. 

“Good idea,” Pete said, though he couldn't help but see a flaw in the plan if Patrick wasn't eating again. “I'll just chill out with Andy. Catch him up to date with everything.”

“I just don't want there to be any conflict,” Patrick said firmly. 

“We're writing a record, there's gonna be some conflict.” Patrick was such a little dictator during the past records, they _were_ going to fight. 

“I'm gonna try and be better, I promise. I was talking more about you and Joe. I know it hasn't been easy for you guys to get along recently, but these three weeks are gonna go a lot smoother without any fighting… or any more than usual.”

“Dude, we're gonna have to cut back on the sex,” Pete said, not really into the idea of that. Patrick, though, just laughed. 

“Maybe none in the kitchen is all. Keep PT-Pete to a minimum.”

“Dude,” Pete laughed, swerving as he looked over at Patrick's quirky little face. “You know I love it when you call me that.”

 

They were supposed to be getting there first, but as Pete now lived with Patrick, they ended up a good two hours behind schedule. Andy was already waiting for them, sitting on the hood of his car, looking out at the view of the lake. 

Patrick immediately tumbled out of the car to give him a hug and Andy just laughed, bringing him in tight. Pete just watched, half an eye on Baloo, who was ready to escape from the back. 

“Is Joe here yet?” Pete asked, once he'd grappled with their pup and was awkwardly holding him in his arms. 

“No, his plane isn't until this afternoon. I can pick him up when he's in,” Andy said, but Patrick was already shaking his head. 

“No, let me. I wanna talk to him alone tonight anyway,” Patrick said, scratching the side of his head. “I'm mediating before I even need to… just in case.”

“It's gonna be a little awkward. I know I felt it when I was first around you as a couple. We have three weeks, it will be fine.” Andy was _always_ the voice of reason and Pete decided to take his word for the truth. It made him feel better about the whole situation. 

It took a while for them to unload Pete's car, especially with Baloo running around their feet, frantic to be somewhere new and different. When Patrick heard word that Joe was landing soon, he headed off in Andy's car, promising he wouldn't do too much damage. 

“It's a rarity that I let him drive,” Pete joked, as Patrick drove off. They'd both experienced him behind the wheel in their early van days. There hadn't been much improvement since he was a teenager. 

Baloo calmed down eventually, when Andy and Pete sat out in two deck chairs, watching the blue of the lake against the deep trees. Sometimes Pete could trick himself into thinking he was in some hidden spot back in Illinois. He didn't miss it too much until it was situations like this. 

“So, how's it going?” Andy asked softly, watching Pete from behind his glasses. “Patrick seems happy.”

“We're good.” Pete took a breath, remembering that talking to Andy was only a step behind Joanna. He could lean on him for anything. “Had a bit of a wobble in the week. Got piss-drunk on anxiety and vodka, but we survived it.”

“That's not good.”

“No, but I feel better now. I think I was bottling shit up, and Patrick is doing better for the most part so I haven't been throwing myself into supporting him as much. More focus on myself means more focus on the anxiety and shit. I spoke with my shrink though, and Trick too. It was just a blip, I'm up again.”

“Not too up?” Andy asked, but he didn't need to. A manic Pete was an obvious sight, he was as stable as he'd been in the last two years. 

“No. I think I need to chat with Brendon when I get back. With or without Patrick. I thought giving him space would help, but every time I see him it's obvious he still…” Pete waved his hand. “Patrick's a bitch about it too.”

“Dude…” Andy warned, but Pete shrugged. 

“No I get that it puts him in an awkward spot and Brendon, like, triggers him in a way. But sometimes it's like they're competing for me.”

Andy laughed. “Some would call you a lucky guy for that.”

“More like a guy always half a beat from stepping on a missile and watching it blow up in his face.” Pete didn't really want to talk about it anymore. Three weeks without dealing with Brendon would be good enough. He had just Joe to deal with. “How about you, Hurley? Romancing anyone new?”

“Unlike some, I like to keep shit to myself,” Andy said, smiling with the corner of his mouth. He wasn't the type to kiss and tell, but Pete would weasel it out of him eventually


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for still sticking with this! It's fun to actually write them as a band at last :D  
> 

Pete didn't really know what to do that night. It was hardly uncomfortable with Andy around, but he was nervous about seeing Joe, about how much affection he could show Patrick with the guys around. 

How they were even going to go about writing the album was confusing too. Patrick and Pete had written a good chunk of songs already, some pretty personal. Pete wasn't sure how he felt leaving them out there for Joe and Andy to analyze and fuck around with.

By the time Andy's car pulled up outside the cabin, Pete was just finishing up the dishes. Patrick stumbled into the cabin first, hood of his jacket over his head. He threw the car keys to Andy, who caught them one handed from the couch. Joe was close behind him, hair a curly nest all over his head. As much as they hadn't seen eye to eye in the past year or so, he was glad to see his old friend.

“Hey Joe,” Pete said, moving away from the sink. He really wanted to get off on a good foot, didn't want to fuck things up right away. If that made him look like an eager schoolboy, he didn't care. Joe smiled down at him, like he was grateful that Pete was trying.

“Hey dude.” They shook hands, which was weird, but Joe looked relieved that Pete was making the effort. “You ready to write some sick tunes?”

“Yeah.” Pete laughed with no breath in his lungs, glad that Joe was willing to break the ice.

 

They all went to their rooms fairly early that night. Joe was taking the other room, and Andy had offered to take the futon. He said he wanted to make use of the scenery for some early runs, and that he'd packed earplugs anyway. They all kinda wanted to start afresh for the next morning.

Patrick was longer than usual doing his shower routine, but Pete didn't bug him about it, only waited for him to pull on some bedclothes before he inched closer on the bed. Patrick seemed desperate for the touch anyway, immediately wrapping his fingers around Pete’s wrist.

“Did you eat anything tonight?” Pete asked, trying for tact, but he never had much anyway. Patrick looked at him sulkily for a moment, but neither of them were ever good at hiding things from the other and so he nodded softly.

“I ate soup,” he laughed with his brow furrowed, as if embarrassed. “All I could manage. I feel better now, though.”

“That's good.” Pete didn't really wanna have to start going through the food plans again. Patrick had been eating good for a while now.

“I used to be such a stress-eater, now I'm the other way.” Patrick rubbed at his face, stretching out on the bed.

“You were really thin when we first reconnected. So, I mean, it wasn't because of what happened.”

“I can't blame it all on that,” Patrick said. “I was depressed after what happened with the album and wasn't really eating, but all the weird shit like with the milkshakes and stuff, that was all after the rape. Lori explained why I couldn't swallow stuff after the attack, but I don't really wanna have to discuss it.”

“I understand enough already.” Pete's mind blocked out all and any thoughts about it, but of course he got it. “Anyway, how's Joe? Did you managed to placate him?”

Patrick looked grateful for the change in topic. “He says so long as we don't make out with tongue in front of him, he'll try and behave.”

“You wouldn't be into that anyway,” Pete pointed out. Patrick was so private about their relationship, half the time Pete could tell he'd rather they only held hands in the privacy of their bedroom. “Seems kinda rude.”

“Not really. He's just protective and he's conflicted. He knows I wanted this for so long, but then, you know. With your history and everything.” Patrick licked his lips, wide eyes open as if he didn't want to offend Pete. “Plus, he remembers me drunk and crying all over him about you when I was seventeen.”

“You never said you _cried_ about me,” Pete said. It wasn't that shocking as Patrick, was in general, the type of person to cry it out rather than bottle shit up, but he didn't really want to hear about it.

“We can blame it on adolescent hormones if it makes you feel better?” Patrick was smiling, like it didn't really bother him anymore. “Look, Joe and I, we were so much younger than you and Andy when we first started that we always looked out for each other. That's continued now as well. I remember he would always come to my solo gigs when he was in town and talk for so long about how amazing they were as if neither of us had heard the boos. I always appreciated that so fucking much.”

Pete felt bad. He hadn't gone to any of Patrick's shows; bitter about how they'd ended the band, blaming the majority of it on Patrick at the time. It was easier to do that than think about Patrick moving on without him.

“I should've come to see you,” Pete admitted, but Patrick just shrugged his shoulder.

“I don't care. You're here now. I was only saying that because I don't think you really understand why Joe's so pissed. Like, I know we've talked about it, but it's more than that. It's like...it's like your relationship with Andy maybe, but worse because Joe can't control his emotions like Hurley, and I cry about shit more than you.”

“I don't cry, I just whine more,” Pete said, which was true. Putting it into perspective of him and Andy, he got it too. “Bitching shit out to Andy is one of my favorite things.”

“I know.” Patrick leaned up, pulling on Pete’s shoulders until they could kiss. Pete opened his mouth around Patrick's lips, trying to convey how sorry he was without fucking everything up again. Patrick just held him close, chest to chest, until they were ready for sleep.

 

Patrick had a nightmare that night. Pete was always half expecting one when they weren't at home, but he was so used to it that Pete just woke him up with a hand on his shoulder, stroking him through it until Patrick could turn over and fall asleep. Pete didn't sleep too well, but that wasn't anything new. 

Everyone seemed kind of lost about where to start the next morning. It took a while to get going with one bathroom between four, but when they'd all had coffee and were sitting around the living area, they stared between each other, looking confused. 

“Okay, so we have some songs,” Patrick started to say. “Joe's heard some of it and we've got one song but… I don't think I can deal with working on that one yet.”

“Death Valley can stay dead it you want it to,” Pete told Patrick, the other two giving him curious looks, but Patrick shook his head.

“No, it's a good one,” Patrick promised. “Just tough, and it's too early for all of us.”

They'd never even really been a super jammy band, so for them all to sit around staring at each other and trying to come up with something to do was a little awkward. After a while, Patrick booted up his laptop, the one with some of the demos on, and he played the first one, a rough draft with just Patrick's voice singing random words, his fingers strumming basic chords in the background.

“I think I can work with this,” Joe said quietly. “I haven't written anything non-metal in a while, but I like a challenge.” Pete watched Patrick's face flood with a relieved smile. It was already different to before, where basically Patrick only really liked his own decisions rather than anyone else's.

They splintered off into groups after that. Now that they had chosen one particular song, or a vague tune, Patrick was demanding lyrics from Pete. Andy had retreated, never really a full part of the creative aspect, and Joe was setting up his guitar and computer.

“I found these lyrics the other day when I was tidying up the bedroom,” Patrick said, which had Pete laughing because Patrick and tidy don't really go hand in hand. Still, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket, sliding it onto the dining table Pete was sitting at.

“Technically these aren't lyrics,” Pete said softly, reading through his words. Nothing on it really made sense outside of his head, but that's what Patrick was for. He was both an editor and translator. “I wrote them after my meltdown last week, before I saw Joanne.”

“Yeah, I figured that much.” Patrick drew out a seat beside Pete. “Your own version of the party you threw.”

“It wasn't much of a party,” Pete admitted, not even remembering much about it, but Patrick was now taking a pen to the page, his fingers tapping out a beat on the table, his head filled with music that no one else could hear.

Pete just watched Patrick work. In everything that had happened recently, he'd maybe forgotten that Musician Patrick was a real thing. Nowadays, it was all about looking after Patrick and making sure he wasn't looking back on what happened. Maybe Pete mentally babied him too much, to the point that seeing him be so competent and assertive, head filled with his own little orchestra. It was almost distressing to watch.

Patrick hurried over to Joe ten minutes later, insisting he needed some “dirty guitars on this bad boy!” before faffing around with his recording equipment. Pete left them to it, heading outside the cabin. He had a lot of shit in his head he needed to get out.

Pete never really worked in full song-lyrics, just scraps of sentences and lines here and there. Patrick would sometimes come along and play a game of mix-and-match, piecing together a colloquially linked song full of Pete’s one-liners. It worked in the past, but Pete didn't want to go back to that.

He could hear Patrick and Joe laughing and playing guitar together inside, and he could hear the dictator lilt to Patrick's voice a few times when he wanted his way. Joe swayed for him easy, letting Patrick have his way for the time being. They were all still trying to find their footing as a band. It was only the first day.

They all went out to dinner that night, at a little Italian restaurant. Andy had the raw end of the deal in basically being able to have a salad, but Patrick, despite his good mood and demeanor during the day, was still too nervous to eat anything solid.

“Just have risotto or something,” Pete said quietly in his ear as they all ordered. There was pizza on the menu, so Pete was settled right away, but he could see the anxiety on Patrick's face as he looked at the laminated pages. Joe and Andy were talking together, unable to hear the conversation.

“I'm such a baby,” Patrick huffed, pushing his glasses up his nose and clearly frustrated with himself.

“Try and contact Lori in the morning, or someone from your group tonight. As long as you eat something it won't get too bad,” Pete said, but he didn't fucking know. This issue had always been far out his realm of understanding.

By the time they ordered and were served their food, talk was back on the music they were making. Patrick was drinking plenty of water, maybe to compensate for the fact he was only picking at his food. They all noticed, but had enough tact not to mention anything, and Joe was being complimentary toward Patrick's work on the song today.

“Sometimes you're a total dickwad when writing, I still remember that shit, but I think it worked today,” Joe said, eyes flicking briefly down to Patrick's food before up at his face.

“He was never as much of an ass to you guys as he was to me!” Pete pointed out, to which Joe held his palms up as if to concede that point.

“You deserved it more,” Patrick said, giving Pete the filthiest of looks over the top of his glasses. It was pretty hot, Pete couldn't lie about it. 

They'd taken two separate cars to the restaurant, which meant Pete sat in the parking lot as Andy drove off, Patrick on the phone to Lori. It wasn't a long call, it was getting late, but he heard her tell Patrick to just take a step back, start again on small pieces of fruit before building up to main meals. 

“I'm so pissed at myself,” Patrick said, as Pete drove them to the local Target afterward. The other guys wouldn't ask too many questions, and they could do with having food in anyway. “I'm such a fucking idiot.”

Pete just laughed softly. “This doesn't make you an idiot. It doesn't even mean you're relapsing or anything. You were just coasting for too long. It's like stress.”

“But I was happy today. All the stress has gone now that we've started writing so it doesn't even make sense,” Patrick was insistent and angry as Pete pulled into the parking lot. 

“Being happy and at peace doesn't mean you can just switch off certain issues. I got experience of that, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Patrick said softly. “But at least you can eat risotto.”

The guys were watching TV together when they got back a half hour later. Pete made a fuss about the fact they'd decided to hit up the grocery store for supplies and that's why they were late, but the other two just laughed, like it was an excuse. 

Pete could tell that Patrick really just wanted to hole up in the bedroom with him and forget about the day, but they'd only been there for just over twenty-four hours, and Pete was on good footing with Joe. He didn't wanna upset the balance, so he made it a point to take a seat beside Joe, on the couch. 

They watched a shitty action movie together. Pete and Joe had a few beers, talking throughout the movie, much to Andy's annoyance. Patrick sat the other side to Pete, messaging someone on his phone most of the night. Pete was relaxed though, it felt like he was among friends. 

By the time they were all ready to hit the hay, Patrick was in the shower again and Pete was fiddling around in the kitchen, not really feeling the idea of sleep at all. He had a head full of thoughts. As they were in the cabin to write an album, he figured a night of lyric writing was good enough. 

“I'm fucking exhausted,” Patrick said, when they were in the bedroom ten minutes later. “But I feel better.”

“Texting someone help?” Pete asked. He was fumbling at the base of the bed, Patrick stretched out in one of Pete's t-shirts, staring down at him. Pete found Patrick's iPod, and clutched it in his hand, crawling back up the bed. 

“Yep. I no longer feel like a total failure. It's all a part of the ‘healing process,’” Patrick said the last part with his fingers in quotations, but he didn't sound too upset now. “Why do you have my iPod?”

“Because I'm not in a sleeping mood and I wanna write. I wanna hear some of the music you've been working on, trying find the words to fit.”

“That's my job,” Patrick said with narrowed eyes, but Pete shrugged, kissing Patrick softly on the mouth. 

“Nothing wrong with changing things up a little.” Pete laid back, laughing when Patrick immediately curled up over him. He seemed playful, over the upsetting cloud that had plagued him all night. “I think I'm gonna end up writing a whole album of lyrics all about you. That's how much you fill up my head these days.”

“Aww.” Patrick softened on top of Pete, resting his cheek against Pete's chest. “You always wrote a lot about me before.”

“Yeah, but not like this.” Pete couldn't explain it. Before it was always so much about how Patrick affected him as a friend or as a way for everyone to know how nice and good and sweet Patrick was, even if he didn't always think so. He didn't want it to become that now. He wanted their friendship to be different, to seem different to everyone else. 

Patrick though, just hummed under his breath. “Don't be too x-rated. I'm not singing anything gross about me.”

“You've sung worse about others.” Pete did his exes so dirty in hindsight, but it worked back then. Made it feel better. Gave him the upper hand, even if he'd always had it in the first place. 

“I have my asshole moments. I liked singing spiteful shit about your old flames.” Patrick lifted his head from Pete's chest, blue eyes hazy and red ringed with tiredness. “Enough of that bullshit, I'm tired and I need a big spoon.” Pete laughed, because it was so not something he ever imagined Patrick saying. It wasn't something he'd ever turn down. 

Patrick fell asleep quickly and deeply. He'd be out until morning. The stress of the evening had taken it out on him, but Pete was glad he was back in good spirits again. When he felt Patrick was nice and settled, he reluctantly pulled away from his warmth, sitting up against the headboard, plugging in Patrick's earbuds and flicking through the songs. 

Pete knew Patrick hated when he put his musicality down, but he just didn't feel like he got it on a level that Patrick did. He tried though, to listen to Patrick's compositions, trying to find the one that fit his mood best. 

One hit him and suddenly he was off. He wasn't even aware of the shit that was bleeding from his pen, only that his head was filled with Patrick. Patrick in his dumb blue swallows shirt, Patrick in the bath, Patrick frustrated and crying at Pete's kitchen table over Death Valley’s lyrics. Then he thought of himself. What a fuckhead he was before Patrick crashed back into his life. He thought of them getting drunk on his porch, thoughts of Jamaica, and alone in his home cinema; their clothes sprawled over the seats, their stupid laughter caught between kisses.

He wrote it all out, his thoughts and memories of their recent relationship. Then he cut out the scenes, left just the emotions. It felt like like a secret song for them that no one else would know about. He only realized he had been writing for hours when the cramp in his wrist was too much, the bed was covered in crumpled paper, and he had a low-level headache curling into his temples. 

The bed stirred behind him. Patrick had been out just as Pete had figured he would, hardly even turning over. Pete smiled when he felt Patrick's arms slide over his shoulder, his chest pressed to Pete's back and his lips against his jaw. 

“You get any sleep, baby?” Patrick asked, voice thick in that delicious way it always was when he was first awake. He was so warm too, snuggly and soft against Pete's back. If he had the energy, all Pete wanted to do was climb inside his body and feel every inch of Patrick wrap around him. 

“None,” Pete said, holding onto Patrick's hand beneath his chin and kissing it. “I wrote a song for us, though.”

“Oohh.” Patrick's voice was so husky. Pete turned, pushing Patrick down on the bed and resting his head on Patrick's chest. 

“You can read it in the morning,” Pete said, shutting his eyes when Patrick's hand stroked through his hair. Patrick's legs were bracketing either side of his body, folding him into his warmth. “‘Thought it was pretty good.”

“I’m sure. Get some sleep now.”

Pete knew he hadn't been asleep all that long, but when he did wake up it felt like forever. The sun was peeling in from behind the curtains and Patrick was sitting at the base of the bed, Pete's words laid out in front of him. His hair was damp, but he was in another of Pete’s old shirts.

“Morning,” Pete said. He stretched, eyes focusing on the rest of the room. “What have I slept through?”

“Not much. I've had a shower, Andy's out on a run and I've not seen Joe yet. I have, however, read your lyrics.” Patrick flipped himself around. He had a small bowl of grapes beside him, which was good, and a sunny expression on his face, which was better. “You wrote me a love song.”

‘Yeah.” Pete laughed, not really caring to be bashful. He never was around Patrick. “You remember I snagged a line from you all those months back? Stuck it in my phone and said I'd use it one day? Told you I'd use it.”

“You got me there.” Patrick was smiling down at the lyrics then up at Pete again. “You've never written a love song before. At least not one that isn't about sex.”

“New guy, Trick. New man.”

“I like that no one would ever know it was about us. Feels secret.” Oh God, Pete loved Patrick, just for understanding the things he'd never have to say. “Feels like we should…”

“No, dude. Don't get corny,” Pete laughed, but Patrick was already crawling up the bed, grinning as he straddled Pete's legs, hands on his chest and bangs falling into his eyes. 

“Feels like we should be _alone together._ ” Patrick was laughing himself, like he couldn't really believe he was allowing himself to quote fresh lyrics like that. “Feels like I should be taking my clothes off for you right now.”

“Technically, those are _my_ clothes.” Pete's old metal shirts did somehow look better on Patrick, he'd admit that. “But you should definitely be naked right now.”


	11. Chapter 11

Pete barely had his hands up Patrick's shirt before they heard the sound of Andy back from his run, along with Joe's friendly welcome. It stopped them in their tracks and Patrick slid off Pete’s lap.

“I guess that's a sign to stop,” he said, pulling his shirt back down so that it laid flat. “You need to go get dressed. I'll make some coffee.” Pete smiled, but he wasn't overly thrilled that they'd been interrupted. It felt like the kinda day where they should stay in bed together. 

Pete still felt creative though, despite his lack of sleep as he pulled on some clothes. It felt like a good night after what had been a troubling day for Patrick. He was in such good spirits though, and seemed so genuinely moved by the song.

By the time he made it into the living room, they were all sitting around the couch. Joe and Andy waved at him, as Patrick smiled, lifting up a mug of coffee in his hand. Pete took the mug, kissing Patrick's mouth softly. As he pulled away he saw Joe looking, but he didn't say anything. Didn't want to bring attention to it.

“So Pete wrote a song last night instead of sleeping and I think it's badass. I wanna work on that for now. We can leave yesterday's one for another day. It's pretty studio ready, anyway,” Patrick said, already in songwriting mode.

“Is it a good song?” Andy teased, breaking what wasn't exactly an awkward moment, but a quiet one nonetheless.

“I wrote it a little different to normal. Patrick already had the music written, I sorta wrote it to fit with that, but obviously it needs tightening up.”

“I only really have the melody down properly,” Patrick frowned in concentration, adjusting his glasses on his face. “I have an idea about the beat, Andy. It needs to be almost like a heartbeat, really constant.” Patrick stopped talking and then bit his lip. “But obviously my ideas are not the only ideas and I don't wanna take over just yet.”

“Save it for the studio,” Joe laughed. “Whoever produces this shit is in for a treat.”

“I'm keeping all my sweetness for you guys,” Patrick promised. Pete watched him lick his bottom lip as he looked around the room. “This is going a lot easier than I thought. Why was writing never this good before?”

“We never really let anyone else in,” Pete piped up, hands still clasped around his coffee. “We didn't have any balance before in anything.”

“Some of your lyrics kinda sucked for Patrick too,” Joe said, and Pete’s eyes immediately flickered to Patrick, whose face had creased in a silent groan. “Writing songs for all your great loves.”

“But now he writes songs for me so it's all good,” Patrick said, looking embarrassed by Joe's comment. It was one of those things that Pete hadn't really thought of before, but now felt bad about. “It's not worth the discussion, so let's just... um... I have the basic song on the computer, Pete go get your lyrics and we'll play with it.”

The song came together as easy as anything. Joe was definitely more of an on-the-fly kind of writer, which basically involved recording him fiddling with his guitar against the basic melody Patrick had recorded until he figured the sound that best matched. He spent longer trying to recreate the one chosen solo than he did playing it in the first place.

Pete mostly dozed, eyes shut, listening to Patrick discuss rhythm with Andy and how he wanted them to be completely in sync with each other. At one point, Pete stared down at the lyrics, trying to think of some way to change them up, but it wasn't worth it. He couldn't think of a way to change them.

By early afternoon they came to a halt. It definitely felt like they'd gone to the cabin half as a way to write an album, half as a way to come together as friends again. It's not like the song needed a whole lot of work, but even Patrick wasn't pushing at them in ways he had in the past.

Joe was talking to Marie on the phone that afternoon, and Andy was playing around on his own laptop, Baloo at his feet, as Pete and Patrick left for a walk. Patrick had been grazing on fruit all day, still not into main meals.

“Was making you write songs about my exes why you were such a dick to me recording in the past?” Pete asked, as they walked through the forest and away from the cabin. Patrick was holding tight to his hand, laughing into Pete’s shoulder.

_“No._ I was a dick because I wanted a good album, the heartbreak just came with it.” Patrick laughed coolly but then shook his head. “Please don't think I spent the entire past decade pining after you. I had some girlfriends I loved a lot, I had a life that did exist without you.”

“Joe doesn't make it sound like that,” Pete said, the sound of their feet soft against the ground as they walked. 

“That's because he's Joe and he's so goddamn protective,” Patrick said. “I suppose the hardest times for me was when we were writing, having to come face to face with you and all of your messy fucking feelings. It was like I'd get over you as we toured, meet someone I'd almost love and then it'd be time to write again and everything would flood back. It was hard, but I dealt with it.”

“Maybe you couldn't though and that's why you broke off the band.” They were steering into territory that they hadn't really discussed. There was always harder things to deal with, it was easier to shove it aside. 

“You really wanna talk about this?” Patrick asked, feeling the same as Pete. He stopped walking, tugging on Pete's wrist until they turned. “Because I think it reflects bad on both of us.”

“Even yourself?”

“Probably. I hated myself for loving you, for wanting to be with you at your worst. Every time I'd try and move on, you'd phone me in the middle of the night, off your head on God knows what, saying you were going to do _this_ or _that._ I knew it was a lie, but I still dropped everything. Feeling needed by you was as close as I could get to being loved. And that's why... That's why I was so dependable.”

“Dude.” Pete didn't have any other words, he mostly felt like shit. Patrick was staring down at the clearing, their feet almost toe to toe.

“It's okay.” Patrick nodded his head, but he sounded upset. “You see why I had to leave? It was making me sick.”

“Yeah I'm sorry. Fuck, I am so sorry.’

“I know you are, and I know it isn't your fault that it took so long to return my feelings. I know people might think I'm weak or that it's wrong to love you still after all this time, but I don't give a fuck. I got what I was told would never happen and you turned out to be the best friend I could ever need. Probably better than I ever was to you.”

“Not possible,” Pete cut in, holding Patrick's hands and keeping him close. “No way.”

“I just mean. You did hurt me for years without realizing, but for me it's okay. I don't care. I'm not really the kind of person to hold grudges, not against the ones I love.”

“Okay.” Pete tried to let go of it, that Patrick forgave him but it would probably take a lot for him to forget. “You just said a major contradiction though. You said it wasn't as bad as Joe said, but then said I ruined your life enough to quit the band.”

“Nah, I said writing with you was what always broke me, not anything else.” Patrick pulled Pete down for a kiss, his mouth soft and wet. Pete kissed him back, pulling Patrick in, hands on his back so he couldn't pull away. “There's no resentment or bitterness, I promise. Only from Joe, but he doesn't count.”

“I think he might count a little. Like we could give him 10%?” Pete joked, but Patrick just laughed, closing his mouth around Pete’s again. Pete ended up forgetting most of the awfulness Patrick just told him as they made out. With Patrick warm and pressed up against a tree, he could pretend that it was fine to sweep it under the rug. When Pete pulled away, Patrick was giving his huge dumb smile, the one that was infectious. He stroked the side of Patrick's face, trying to feel okay with it all.

“I'm healing from everything at once, I promise,” Patrick said, and Pete couldn't work out what he was implying.

“Feel like I need to write you at least ten more songs now, just to make it up,” Pete said, and even though there hadn't been anything sad in the air, it broke the atmosphere a little. Patrick nodded his head like he was agreeing.

“You should. But nothing dirty.” He stroked his hands up Pete’s chest before sliding them down and laying them flat to his hips. “Don't write dirty songs about me.”

“I feel like I need a reason not to,” Pete teased. He liked where this was going, that Patrick had a naughty look in his eye and wandering hands all over Pete’s body. “Maybe if those panties came out again I could keep things nice and sweet.”

“Those were a birthday treat.” Yeah, but Pete still had visions of it. He hadn't ever thought himself into that shit until he saw Patrick standing there all coy on his birthday, little red lace covering him. “I wanna make it up to you.”

Patrick sunk down onto his knees and Pete didn't know what to do. He didn't really like Patrick saying what he just did, as if Patrick needed to do anything. 

He was also vaguely confused because blow jobs were a no go zone for Patrick. He didn't stop Patrick reaching for the waistband on Pete’s track pants though, slowly untying the white cord before tugging them down. Pete hadn't bothered with underwear and Patrick smiled.

“I can't suck dick,” Patrick said, which relaxed Pete a little. But then his brain moved onto Patrick stroking slow fingers at the base of his dick, teasing him with his thin fingers. “I wanna try something else.”

“Don't rush yourself, baby,” Pete said, not caring too much for Patrick wanting to try something new in the forest. He just hoped Joe didn't come looking for them or the reunion really would be short lived. Patrick teased Pete gently into hardness, his hand curling over Pete in slow smooth movements.

Pete moved his hand from Patrick's shoulder to stroke at his cheek. He had mega soft skin for a dude that didn't even try hard to keep it that way. Patrick moved his head, Pete’s hand sliding towards his soft mouth. He kissed Pete’s hand, lips brushing his knuckles, his hand still gently stroking Pete. It was good, a little too gentle, but they were just starting.

“Look at you,” Pete said, just as Patrick's mouth closed over two of his fingers. That was...okay. That was new. “You like being down there for me?” Patrick nodded, fingers twisting tight briefly to Pete’s dick. Pete knew he had to be so careful with what he said, that it was a fine line between getting Patrick off and fucking him up in the head even more. “You look so good on your knees for me.”

Patrick was staring right up at Pete, blue eyes so wide with his wet lips sliding over two of Pete’s fingers, his other hand clasping Pete in a too soft jerk. This wasn't like getting a blow job at all, but kind of was. It was weird, but Pete didn't care. It was hot, Patrick's tongue sliding around his fingers, spit dribbling down his chin. He started to moan softly, vibrating around the digits in his mouth and it made Pete’s head go light, his stomach twist.

“So pretty on your knees for me,” Pete said, and Patrick nodded his head. His face was flushed, like it was almost too much attention on him, but he managed to tighten his grip on Pete’s dick, managed to make it a little more hotter. 

After an hour or so of them walking in the wood, culminating in all the shit Patrick told him, and now with him down on his knees, jerking Pete off, sucking on his fingers, Pete didn't have much left in him. No stamina at all. “Baby, I'm gonna come.”

Patrick twisted his head at that sentence, Pete’s fingers popping from his mouth as he shifted, so that his face was upturned directly toward Pete’s dick. It was too late to stop what Patrick was about to do as Pete started to come, all over his face.

It was a fucking awesome hand-almost-blow job. His legs were a little shaky as he rubbed a hand over his face, tucking himself away as he pulled his pants up. Patrick was still kneeling, face squeezed up in disgusted shock, come dripping across his face.

“If you put your face in the firing line you're gonna get hit,” Pete said, crouching down. Patrick's fists were balled up on his lap, his shoulders almost by his ears. Pete pulled his shirt off, and immediately began wiping Patrick's face clean. “I knew you wouldn't like that, so why would you think you would?”

“Dunno,” Patrick said, opening his eyes when Pete was finished with his face. “I really like getting fucked after what happened. I was trying to expand my horizons.” Patrick winced, but Pete could tell it was just at himself.

“Think you tried to expand them too much,” Pete laughed gently and Patrick tried to glare, but it was too soft. “I was into what was happening before in a _big_ way.”

“I bet Brendon lets you come on his face,” Patrick blurted, and Pete felt the comment so weird and out of the left field that he didn't even bite back. He just swallowed it down, stroking the side of Patrick's face.

“I'm not thinking of Brendon when I'm with you,” he said instead. “Don't do that thing where you relate us to him. It isn't cool.”

“I just get frustrated with myself.” Patrick rubbed at his forehead. “I wanna be able to do everything that I always wanted to with you.”

“I know you do, but it's better like this. I still have way too much fun with you anyway. I'm not into degrading you, we're into the good kind of praise.”

“Yeah.” Patrick smiled small. “They pinched my nose and squeezed my throat until I couldn't breathe at all. Half my nightmares are stuck in that place, between wanting them to squeeze a little harder so it would stop and trying to fight some fucking air into my lungs.”

Patrick so rarely spoke in detail of what happened to him that whenever he did it was like someone stabbing Pete directly in the heart. He never wanted to hear of it, but he could never tell Patrick to not lean on him about it.

Patrick seemed to clock onto it because he touched Pete's shoulder softly. “I'm sorry. I try not to discuss it with you because I know you don't want to hear it.”

“You should be able to tell me,” Pete swallowed, thighs starting to ache from crouching down. “I just never know what to say.”

“Me either.” Patrick laughed, but then scrunched his nose up. “My face feels weird.”

“Well that's to be expected. Give it a good wash when we get in.” Pete stood up, and grabbed Patrick's arms pulling him up too. “We should get back anyway. This whole day has been a rollercoaster of emotion.”

“Dude, I'm sorry.” Patrick was laughing as he brushed off his knees. “I feel like I ruin everything good.”

“Nah. You just make it interesting.”

They stumbled back toward the cabin in fairly good spirits. Patrick was embarrassed about his reaction to the impromptu facial, but Pete didn't think it was a big deal. His reaction to bottoming the few times he did it was way more cringe worthy. 

“Where's your shirt?” Joe said, when they made it back. Andy just laughed as Pete shrugged, Patrick making his way quietly to the bathroom. 

“Guess I'm over feeling shy around you assholes,” Pete winked, taking Joe's comment to mean he was currently pissed at Pete. 

There was a football game on TV that night so Pete and Andy watched that. Joe was adding his input, but he couldn't follow what the fuck was going on. Patrick was at the dining table, headphones in, GarageBand hooked up. He wasn't doing anything serious, but it was his thing, and Pete didn't want to disturb him. 

 

The next few days went fairly smoothly. Patrick was still pretty tame in his dictatorship and everyone else easily went along with him. Mostly because his ideas were good. 

He was eating on and off. Mostly fruit, but he was trying and they got into the habit of splitting up for dinner, Patrick and Pete heading somewhere, Joe and Andy another place. 

“I kinda really wanna have a bath with you,” Patrick admitted over Pete's pile of buffet food. He was twitchy that night, had been all day. Pete figured it was just anxiety. He could get the same way. “Like we do at home, you know.”

“Right. I miss that shit. Don't think we could get away with that here.”

“Yeah, I wouldn't want to,” Patrick admitted. “You know, I feel like we're writing some really good shit. Like, we kinda have to release it as an album. It wouldn't be fair.”

“What if I wrote a dirty song?” Pete sat back, watching the flickering shadows in Patrick's glasses. “Something about the bruises on your thighs that you like so much.”

“You only bruised me once,” Patrick said tartly. He actually sounded bitter about it, and it had Pete rolling with laughter. “Joe wouldn't let anything like that on the album. Not if he knew it was about me.”

“Don't let him be a spoil sport,” Pete warned, but Patrick was as stubborn as they got. He wouldn't let Joe do anything if he didn't want him to. “Whatever. Might stick it on the second album. He might have stopped clucking around by that point.”

“I somehow doubt it,” Patrick said, but he was smirking at Pete, raising his drink to his lips.

They were back at the cabin before the other two, and pretty drunk on each other. Pete had found some ancient ice cream in the back of his freezer and Patrick had bent a spoon into it, trying to soften the ice crystals as he sat on the dining table. 

“Think that's as old as my marriage,” Pete said, which was actually not that old at all considering how quickly that died, but still. It had Patrick giggling and that was good enough. “We should probably toss it.” 

“Probably,” Patrick said. He gave up when the spoon more or less collapsed on itself. He dropped the tub to the table and then opened his arms. 

Pete didn't need telling twice. He went straight to Patrick, hands sliding beneath his sweater to rest on his hips. Patrick was feeling frisky, his knees folding by Pete's sides. 

It only seemed fair that at that moment, with Patrick's ankles clipped around Pete's back, Joe and Andy walked right into the cabin. 

“Oh. Oops,” Patrick said, unlocking his ankles and scrambling around, until he was falling off the table and onto his feet.

“Uh. If you guys wanted the cabin to yourself, you could say so,” Andy said, so hilariously diplomatic. Joe was rubbing at his eyes, as if he hadn't just seen Patrick on his back with his legs wrapped around Pete. They were wearing clothes though. Pete didn't see the big deal. 

“Not at all. We just wanted ice cream, but Pete said it was old and we got distracted,” Patrick laughed awkwardly. “No Joe, don't get all weird.”

“But it is weird seeing you all… like that!” Joe waved a hand, but Patrick was fluttering over to him, as Pete and Andy fell to stupid smiles. 

“It's weird being in that position but it's fine. It's _good._ Why don't we all watch a film? You know what I haven't seen in awhile? _The Terminator._ Pete owns a million copies of it, I bet he's got one here.” Patrick's random ramblings seemed to settle Joe, and it was easy to just go along with it. They sat around watching Arnie until the credits rang out.


	12. Chapter 12

“One day, you gotta bring the food into the bedroom,” Patrick said to Pete that night, once they’d spent enough time with the other two to retire to the bedroom. “I'm excited to try it.”

“I think we left the ice cream out. It'll probably still be rock hard in the morning,” Pete pondered, pulling off his shirt in the bedroom. “Maybe we should try it out. Might be a way to get you to eat.”

“Oh shut up. I've been eating just fine these last couple of days,” Patrick said, which was kinda true. Little and often. Mostly fruit. “I've been horny all night. Ever since you had me on the table.” Now that piqued Pete's interest a little more. He smirked, sliding his hand up Patrick's bare thigh and into the hem of his boxers. 

“You a little exhibitionist?” Pete teased, knowing the answer one hundred percent. He laughed when Patrick shook his head. 

“Nope.” Patrick raised his arms like he wanted a cuddle. Pete went willingly, smirking. “I just want you.” Pete never needed more than that, he crawled up the bed, over Patrick. He was so into him that Pete needed to blink sometimes, just to slow the intensity. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Patrick said quietly. They hadn't since the session on the kitchen table with the bruises. “I want you on top of me. I want to feel you pressing me down.”

“I dunno, Patrick. I don't want to upset or trigger you,” Pete said. The last thing he wanted was to do that. Particularly when Joe and Andy were around to witness. 

“You won't. I'm ready.” Patrick looked serious before he descended into laughter. “I'm ready for us to do missionary. I know it's a tricky position.” Pete had to giggle back, even if he felt like an ass for doing so. He touched Patrick's warm leg, sliding it up further. 

They had condoms and they had lube or at least, Pete had packed some, but they were both so messy that the room was cluttered with notebooks, clothes and recording equipment. Eventually he found them both, throwing them on the bed before pulling his clothes off. 

“We gotta be quiet. Like when Bronx is staying over,” Patrick said, eyes flicking to the door. 

“Yeah. I'm not the one that's loud though,” Pete said, hopping back up onto the bed. He grinned at Patrick, who pouted his lips out. Pete couldn't tease him any longer, not when he was desperate to push his hands up Patrick's shirt to warm, warm skin. 

Patrick kneeled as Pete's arms slide around him. He kissed at Patrick's stomach, biting down into soft flesh, kissing every time he nipped a little too hard. Patrick just sighed and gasped, running his hands through Pete's hair, over his shoulders and up again. 

“You're gonna make me all pink and blotchy,” Patrick whispered, pulling at Pete's head. Pete looked up, beneath his eyelashes. He just laughed, resting his mouth against Patrick's sensitive skin. 

“You've already gone that way,” Pete said, but he sat up, stretching his back out. “But you're cute.”

“That's not an excuse,” Patrick tried to argue, but Pete was already clamping his hands over Patrick's cheeks, bringing him in for a wet kiss. Patrick kissed back, mouth opening, tongue soft and willing to play with Pete's. He'd been so touchy all day, so open for everything. 

“Were you gonna let me have you on the table out there today?”Pete asked, as Patrick laid flat on the bed again. Patrick was wiggling out of his clothes, ridding Pete of the opportunity to pull him out himself. 

“Of course not. That was just...just a tease.” Patrick laughed, biting his bottom lip as he stretched his limbs; arms above his head, feet planted on the bed. It was.. Wow. He was so unashamedly unabashed. It wasn't Patrick, but it was. “That was like appetizer.”

“What? and this is dessert?” They were both corny enough to laugh. 

It felt like the kind of sex they had sometimes, usually on a Friday after a bath and therapy for Patrick. Patrick's emotions were usually closer to the edge on those days, and he needed more care. Of course, he'd kill Pete if he ever said it aloud, but it was true. 

“I know it's lame, vanilla and boring, but this is the way I always wanted it,” Patrick whispered, after Pete had smoothed over the condom and smothered it in lube. 

Patrick had rejected any form of prep. Wanted only Pete's dick. It wasn't the way they usually did it, but Pete figured he needed to let Patrick come to these decisions for himself. 

He still didn't rest all his weight on Patrick on the first push inside. His core muscles were so good from the balance he now had to have in the bedroom. His abs were thankful and Patrick seemed to like how cut he'd got recently. 

“Ah fuck.” Patrick's face scrunched up, his knees by Pete's hips. He wasn't panicking, so Pete just stayed still, waiting for Patrick to unclench. “Didn't think the fingering did as much as I  thought.”

“We can wait it out. You feel good, I'm happy,” Pete said. When Patrick said shit like that Pete kinda wanted to remember it to tease him with later. He could feel Patrick with every still breath. They were sweating already, and Pete was finding it hard to hold onto Patrick's thighs, his fingers slipping as he finally started to thrust. 

“Uh yeah.” Patrick's eyes shut again, his tongue dipping out to curl over his bottom lip. Pete pressed him down, hands finally pushing against Patrick's ribs. 

“I got you,” Pete said. “I need you to let me run this.” It felt important that Patrick give it over to him completely, that he trusted Pete then and there. 

“Okay.” Patrick swallowed, hips rocking upwards into Pete. His whole body was sweaty, Pete pressing him down completely. 

The slick skin made it easier for their bodies to slide together, and Pete used it to his advantage, pressing Patrick down, hands in his hair, dick in his ass. Pete moved slowly, pulling out nearly all the way, only the tip inside, before he rocked forward again as deep as he could. Patrick's eyes rolled back, his hand wrapped tight to his dick and a deep, deep groan crawling from his throat. 

“You look so good getting fucked,” Pete told Patrick, rocking into his ass, Patrick's legs high around his ribs. The mattress was squeaking, Pete feeling overheated as he lay on top of him. 

“This is so good,” Patrick managed to stammer, looking like the secret Patrick that only Pete got to see; flushed, with wet hair and pink lips open and wet. It was sex. He was sex when he looked like that. 

“You're so good.” Corny, again, but Pete could care less. His thrusts were jagged. It was almost like he wasn't using a condom with how it felt. Maybe he was just feeling it too much, Patrick tight, almost gagging on his own moans, hand moving between their sweat-slick bodies.

“Gonna make me… ugh.” Patrick tightened so much that Pete groaned, falling on top of him. Patrick's hand was moving quickly between their bodies, his heels digging into Pete's back as he finally came. 

Pete was just about holding on himself, trying to kiss Patrick but barely having it in him to thrust. He just rocked back and forth, mouthing mostly at Patrick's chin, still tucked so deep inside Patrick. He saw nothing as he came, unspooling from his belly until he was a completely loose and boneless wreck. 

Pete couldn't move for a long time and Patrick didn't wiggle away either, just laid beneath Pete, pressed between his body and the mattress, holding Pete with arms around his shoulder. 

Pete pulled out when he regained strength, but only really managed to fall onto his back with his eyes shut. He fell asleep like that because he didn't recall anything else. 

Patrick looked all dopey and in love when Pete awoke the next morning. He smelled clean and fresh, hair already dry so he must've been up a while, but he was kissing at Pete's shoulder and laughing in his ear with minty-fresh breath. 

“Last night was good,” He said, low and soft. His fingers rested on Pete's chest, stroking in small movements. “Bit sore. But I like it.”

“You didn't let me prep you. Sort of threw you in the deep end a little. Sorry.” Pete still felt a little boneless, like he often did after really good sex. They hadn't really had _Amazing_ sex yet, but that felt like it. “Not too much lube.”

Patrick giggled away his embarrassment as he laughed. “Nope. It was good. We need to, like, get up though. And you need a shower. You smell gross.”

“Hmmm.” Pete was kinda happy to just lay there. He didn't want to do anything else. 

 

There was a weird atmosphere in the cabin after Pete was finally up and showered. Patrick seemed oblivious, but only because he had his headphones in, listening to a guitar track Joe had sent a while back. Pete sat with his coffee, looking between Andy, who seemed uncomfortable and Joe, who looked pissed. 

“Did you guys not sleep well?” Pete asked, wondering if they were just being awkward because of what they walked in on the night before. 

“I slept good,” Andy answered softly. He had a smile, the one he used when he was being Master Placater. “I had earplugs. They block out any noise. Joe didn't think to pack any.”

“I pulled the short straw. Had to listen to you fuck Patrick into the mattress all night,” Joe said and oh _shit._ Pete thought they'd been quiet, or quiet enough to not be heard the other side of the cabin. 

“It's what you do in a relationship. We have sex, Joe. I'm sorry if you don't like it.” Pete's good mood from the great sex was quickly evaporating. Once more Joe was there to sour things, right when their friendship had been improving. 

“You guys need to have a serious chat,” Andy cut in. He sounded fed up with the pair of them as he rose to his feet. “I'm taking Patrick out. There's a comic store in the town. We'll be a while.”

Neither Joe or Pete spoke as Andy pulled Patrick away from his laptop. He was pissed and whiny at first, but then he looked over at Joe and Pete and he seemed to click onto it. 

“Okay. Don't kill each other when we're gone.” Patrick didn't kiss Pete in front of Joe, but he did shoot him a huge warning look as if he wasn't fucking around. They waited until the front door closed and Andy's tires pulled out of the drive before talking. 

“Look, what is your problem, dude?” Pete asked, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, feet stretched out in front of him. 

“My problem? Dude, Patrick is not fucking well. You act like it's all good and getting the band back will be amazing, but he's in the shower twice a day and he's never been that into hygiene. You make him feel dirty.”

“I don't make him feel dirty. Getting gang raped did.” Pete would not be blamed for that. “He doesn't feel dirty anymore, either. It's, just, he needs routine in his life sometimes to help him cope and that's one of them. 

“What about the fact he has a fucking eating disorder or am I completely oblivious to his eating habits too?” Joe asked. He sounded so upset that Pete almost felt bad. Not enough to actually soften his words though. 

“He's always had a fucked up eating pattern, you know that. He doesn't have an eating disorder, it's like… I don't know what it's like. He was like it before he came back into my life, but I'm the one helping him fix it. He's eating now, anyway. It was only the first few days he was struggling.”

“You're not helping him, Pete. I think you're making it worse.” Joe's words almost sounded like he cared, but Pete was already seeing red. He hadn't been physically violent with anyone in going on a decade, but he was so close to socking Joe in the jaw. 

“Sounds like you're jealous. What. You wanna fuck Patrick too? You want it to be your name he cries out when you're balls deep inside him.” If Pete was in a rational mood, he'd see that Joe looked  appalled by the idea, but he wasn't. 

“He won't come back from this if you fuck him over,” Joe said softly. He was standing, eyes wet, hair a mess around his face. “You already seem halfway there.”

Joe walked out of the cabin, leaving Pete alone. He ended up slamming his knuckles into the coffee table. He didn't regret it, the pain relieving the anger locked tight in his body. He was so fed up of constantly being the one to blame when he was the one holding it together. Patrick's guitar was laying close by and Pete was so tempted to grab it and snap the neck in half, but he took a breath and counted to ten. He didn't want to awaken Patrick's wrath too. He'd be murdered for touching his instruments. 

By the time Andy and Patrick had come back, Pete had wrecked the living room and was in the process of putting it back together again. The equipment remained untouched, but the couch was a wreck and he'd smashed a couple of glasses too. 

“Holy shit.” Patrick sounded concerned rather than pissed. He walked over to Pete, touching his shoulder. “Where's Joe?”

“Somewhere else,” Pete said. When Patrick stared down at his bruised knuckles in alarm he just shook his head. “I didn't hit him. He left before I had the chance.”

“Maybe you two should go for a walk,” Andy interrupted. “I'll clean up here.”

Patrick grabbed Pete by the arm and did as Andy told them, marching them into the forest and away from the cabin and lakes. 

“Never had two people fight over me before. It isn't as cool as I thought,” Patrick said as their feet crunched over the ground. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

“There's nothing wrong with me,” Pete insisted, feeling like a kid getting told off. It wasn't fun at all. “Joe basically blames me for everything wrong with you and that isn't fucking fair.”

“‘Everything wrong with me?’” Patrick sounded offended but Pete didn't care, and only shrugged his shoulder in response. 

There was a fallen log a step or two behind Patrick and Pete shouldered past him to sit on it. Patrick stood in front of him, hands on his hips. His cardigan wasn't buttoned up correctly, the third from the bottom missing the hole, but Pete didn't care to tell him. 

“You're different to the way you were before. You don't eat the same, your hygiene is way stricter. Joe noticed. Andy probably has too, but he acts like it's because of me.”

“Well that isn't true,” Patrick said and Pete just groaned, head in his hands. “If he asked me I'd tell him you've been nothing but supportive.”

“But he doesn't ask you does he? He just blames me for everything.”

“I guess he heard us having sex, then,” Patrick said, finally taking a seat beside Pete on the log. “We should go into town and buy him some earplugs.”

“Fuck that. I'm not doing anything for him until he apologizes.” Pete leaned against Patrick briefly. “I know I was a douchebag in the past, but I wouldn't ever hurt you like that.”

“And he knows that. I guess it's just hard for him. Maybe the idea of me wanting sex? I dunno. I don't want to think about what Joe thinks about me having sex. I don't wanna think about him getting down either.”

“Patrick, if he can't deal with us then I don't see how we can be a band again.” Pete couldn't bare the thought, but it would be better to quit now than have it all bleed out backstage on tour. Nip it in the bud. 

“Come on.” Patrick stood up and offered his hand to Pete. “My ass can't deal with anymore log-sitting after last night.”

There was a joke there that Pete was desperate to make, but as he had Patrick completely on his side, he figured to hold back. 

“I'm sitting you and Joe down and we're gonna fucking talk about this once and for all. I'm not letting this get to us.” Pete's knuckles were stinging as Patrick held his hand, walking them back through the clearing and toward the cabin again. 

Pete did feel a little like a kid getting told off as they walked back toward the cabin. Patrick wasn’t super mad at him, he could tell, but he seemed exasperated and Pete _got it_. It was probably super awkward for Patrick stuck between them; fighting over him constantly.

“Thinking about it, I probably said something that meant he should've socked me one,” Pete said, wincing when Patrick looked at him sideways.

“Do I wanna know what you said?” he asked, but Pete shook his head, putting his arm over Patrick's shoulder and kissing his cheek.

“No, just know that I'm sorry for everything.” He kissed Patrick's cheek again to prove it, until Patrick squirmed away.

 

By the time they made it back to the cabin, Joe was there and everything was back in it's rightful place. Pete crouched down so that Baloo could greet him. Thankfully he'd been sleeping on their bed when he'd trashed the cabin, so he hadn't got caught in the crossfire.

“Why don't I take Baloo for a walk so you guys can deal with this without involving me?” Andy said calmly. “If you think you can handle it Patrick?”

“Oh, I for sure can handle things.” Patrick stood there with his hands on his hips, looking around at the two of them. Pete was still stroking Baloo and Joe was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. “Give us an hour or so.”

“Sure. Good luck.” Pete was disappointed when Andy strapped the leash to Baloo's collar and lead him away. It meant dealing with the mess of his friendship with Trohman. Patrick though, was pulling out a seat at the table and sitting in it loudly, clearing his throat until they both looked at him.

“Yeah, okay. So we're sitting at the table and we're going to handle this like adults. Alright?” Patrick was hot when he got all authoritative, but Pete didn't mention it _obviously._ He just stood up and walked over to sit beside Patrick. Eventually Joe took the seat opposite, as Patrick took in a deep breath. “Joe, I'm sorry about last night. It was disrespectful to you.”

“How is having sex as a couple disrespectful?” Pete jumped in, wincing when Patrick stomped on his foot.

“Because he is still coming to terms with us as a couple, he probably doesn't want to hear us boning,” Patrick said back. “Do you really not get that?”

“I guess I get it.” If Pete thought about Andy having sex his nose did scrunch up a little. Thinking of Andy and Joe together made it even worse. It just didn't work. “You must've known it was a possibility.”

“When? What when Patrick turned to you after being violated? Should I have thought _‘hmm, maybe Pete would totally start fucking Patrick to help him through it.’”_

“It didn't happen until months after the attack. We got together in the New Year,” Pete snapped back, ignoring Patrick fidgeting beside him. 

“But he isn't another warm place to stick it to get over your marriage. That's all you've ever seen anyone as. Someone new until you find someone _else_ new.”

“I wouldn't do that to Patrick,” Pete insisted, aware of Patrick now shifting uncomfortably beside him. 

“You did it to your own fucking wife!” Joe slammed his fist on the table, but then took in a breath. The silence between that breath and the next line felt deadly. “Look, I love you, dude, you know that, but I feel like no one has even bothered to have this conversation with you. It needs to be put out there.”

“We've talked about it a bit,” Patrick suddenly piped up, but his defense was weak, and Joe did have a point. There had always been something else they'd rather discuss. It wasn't one of Pete's finer personality traits. “There's nothing I can do about Pete’s past. I trust him, though. That's what matters.”

“Even though he has the worst reputation?” Joe asked back, just as firm. “Have you ever been faithful to anyone, Pete?”

“Dude, I know I hurt Patrick for years for not seeing it, but like, I can't think of a time I purposely hurt him. If the time came, which I don't see happening, but say I suddenly felt different. I would tell him that it was time to break up. I wouldn't string him along, or cheat on him. Maybe it makes me gross, but I respect him too much to do that.”

“It's fucking terrible you didn't feel that way about Ashlee,” Joe pointed out. Since getting married, maybe Joe was more serious about vows or whatever. He hadn't seemed all that vocal at the time. But then, neither Pete or Ashlee had really planned on marriage until her pregnancy test came up positive. 

“Yeah, it is.” Pete couldn't add anymore. He didn't know what else to say. “But enough about me. That isn't your only issue is it.”

“No.” Joe's eyes turned to Patrick. He wet his lips carefully, like he was trying to put it as eloquent as possible. It said a lot to Pete, that Joe was way more willing to pick his words carefully with Patrick than him. “You're not right. You know that, yeah?”

“I'm not right?” Patrick laughed awkwardly, repeating Joe's comment. “How?”

“You're just not well. You're not the Patrick you were. You don't eat properly, you're clingy with Pete and quiet when you used to be louder. You shower all the time. You're not _Patrick_ Patrick.” Joe frowned when Patrick leaned over and took his hand.

“Asshole, I _am_ Patrick.” he joked, but then he frowned. “What happened basically destroyed me though. I've had to rebuild myself – with Pete’s help – and so I’m different. I can never go back to being the Patrick I was before because that Patrick wasn't put through the things I was. I experienced shit that I don't think I'll ever come back from. I just had to... recalibrate everything and that's why.”

“It fucking kills, hearing you say that,” Joe said, and his eyes were suddenly wet. Patrick stood up, letting go of his hand before walking quickly around the other side of the table. 

He stood in front of Joe for a minute before sitting on top of him, sitting firmly in his lap and putting his arms around Joe. Joe laughed, raising his hands in surrender to Pete, as if to apologize.

“Nothing better than a Stump hug,” Pete conceded the truth. He kinda wished to get in on the action, feeling raw and open from Joe's comments, but he'd have his turn later.

“Just so you know,” Joe started to say, resting his chin on Patrick's shoulder, and rubbing his back lightly. “You're the only dude I'd ever let sit on my lap.”


	13. Chapter 13

“That didn't go too bad,” Pete said later, as they all went out for something to eat. Joe and Andy were talking together about a metal band they'd met, so they were distracted as Pete spoke. Patrick was holding his hand, thumb brushing against his sore knuckles.

“No, you had it out. I don't know if you had it _all_ out, but Joe hashed out the worst of it, I think,” Patrick said back. “You did good. Well done.” He kissed Pete's cheek and then looked down at the menu. “Nothing on this menu looks good.”

“Pizza looks good,” Pete shrugged, but Patrick just rolled his eyes and peered down harder.

 

Patrick had a phone-in session with Lori the next day so Pete worked with the other guys on his own. There was still tension, but more from the fact that none of them wanted to fight about things to start any fresh arguments. They worked on the first song again, which was almost finished. It made Pete smile, knowing it was all about Patrick. Patrick was gone for nearly two hours, but when he did come over to them with a strong coffee he seemed ready to help out.

“I had a lot to discuss, sorry guys,” Patrick said, booting up his laptop. Pete watched him carefully, knowing there was something a little frantic about him. He wasn't too worried, Patrick was always worn out after therapy.

They got the song basically done, and then Patrick was flying straight into another one. He didn't want to stop and take a break and even though Joe and Andy raised their eyebrows at Pete, he just shook his head. If Patrick needed to work on music to stop his emotions for a time, then Pete would just go with it.

An hour later though, Patrick was shutting down mentally. Pete saw the shades close over his eyes, as they became unfocused and blurry. He rubbed at his face and let out a slow breath before Pete leaned over and closed the lid of his laptop.

“I think we should, like, reconvene in a couple of hours,” Pete said, looking to the other two. They both nodded and Patrick who, if he had the energy to talk, would have whined about it. Instead he let Pete pull him up.

“I wanna check in with Marie anyway,” Joe said and Pete nodded to him as he walked Patrick to their bedroom. Baloo was stretched out on their bed, but he rolled over to make room for them as Pete maneuvered Patrick onto the bed.

“We were working,” Patrick tried to insist, but he let Pete pull his pants off and push him down onto the bed.

“You need to sleep. You always get wiped after a session with Lori.” Pete kinda wished he had that sort of drive after therapy, it'd give his body a chance to actually sleep rather than just release even more pent up adrenaline.

“Had a lot to discuss,” Patrick slurred sleepily as he rolled over onto his side. Pete curled up behind him. He wouldn't sleep himself, but it was good to have some time with his thoughts; with his boyfriend and his dog.

Patrick slept for three hours but when he woke up he was surprisingly awake. He wiped at his eyes and then started stretching, back arching as he lifted his arms above his head. He rolled over to face Pete and gave a warm smile, a bit more of a beam than anything else. It set Pete’s bones to water for a few seconds before he was back to normal.

“Feel better?” He asked, knowing the answer when Patrick nodded with a smile. “That's good.”

“Dude, bodies are weird. All that because I talked to Lori for a few hours.”

“It's tiring, maybe, what you were discussing,” Pete said, not wanting to pry. Patrick didn't exactly hide things from Pete, but there were areas and elements that neither of them were always willing to talk about.

“I had a lot on my mind. Some of the stuff Joe mentioned yesterday got to me a little... I dunno. When you said you'd tell me if you ever wanted to break up. I dunno if I could deal with that.”

“It's not gonna happen,” Pete laughed, tapping Patrick's nose until he scrunched it up. Cute. “But you would get through it if it did.”

“No, I wouldn't,” Patrick insisted firmly, but Pete shook his head in disagreement.

“After what happened to you last year I think you'll survive anything now. Even if it might hurt a lot.” Patrick stared up at Pete like he wasn't soothed by those words 

“Don't do that though. Joe would murder you,” Patrick said. Pete nodded seriously, 100% aware that Patrick was right. Joe would kill him, but Pete didn't actually plan on ever changing his mind.

Pete wanted to go a different route, though. “I don't know why you don't think it could be you wanting to leave me.”

“I haven't ever not loved you, in over ten years,” Patrick said plainly. He had his hands resting gently on his stomach and Pete touched his knuckles, rubbing back and forth. 

“I know, but I'm not a catch. You're probably worth way more than me. I'm a divorced, recovering asshole with a four year old kid. Also, a former drug addict with bipolar and, like, more anxiety than I can literally contain in my body. It's not much.”

“None of that matters to me,” Patrick said. “That's always been obvious.”

“Yeah, well all of your supposed imperfections don't matter to me, either. That's all I'm saying. We could both have it easier, maybe, with other people, but I don't want that and neither do you.”

“You're right,” Patrick said, raising his arms and pulling Pete in for a kiss. “I'm sorry I let it get to me.”

“It's good to be cautious.” Pete rolled into his back, frowning up at the ceiling until Patrick curled up against him. Then he just smiled, kissing the top of Patrick's head. “I turned over a new leaf when you came back into my life. I'm different now.”

“You don't have to prove it or anything. I believe you.” Patrick rubbed his cheek against Pete's chest, and then sighed. “I do believe you, it's just hard to think about sometimes.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Pete said, but he'd always trust Patrick, knew there wasn't much chance of him straying when sex with anyone else terrified him. It was different for the both of them and he knew Patrick's trust was rare, and something he didn't want to lose.

 

The next morning Joe was talking to Pete as if they hadn't had their argument at all. It felt better than the last few days, like things truly were clearing up between them. 

“I haven't even asked how Jamaica was, my bad,” Joe said, over a table of ineligible Patrick scrawl and a few take-out leaflets. Patrick was writing notes, his orders fresh on the page so he couldn't forget them. Andy was trying to teach Baloo to roll over and Joe and Pete were having a real life, decent conversation. 

“Jamaica was _amazing._ Literal heaven on earth, dude,” Pete said, leaving out the part where they had sex for the first time. Joe wasn't the friend for that, either. He wouldn't ever be. “Felt like I was getting back in touch with my roots a little.” 

Patrick scoffed at that, clearly eavesdropping on the conversion. He looked over at Pete with a cynical look. 

“What?” Pete shrugged, laughing when Patrick's pointed look carried on a few seconds longer than it should. 

“What has jetskiing got to do with your roots?”

“You got him on a jet-ski?” Joe asked incredulously, but Pete shook his head. 

“Nah, but I let him ride my speedboat.” He winked at Patrick, not able to keep that kind of comment to himself. Joe took it in his stride, laughing it off. Patrick didn't respond with words, but he did flip his middle finger at Pete and pour a whole mountain of sugar into Pete's coffee without him knowing. 

“You guys haven't changed much at all,” Joe said, once Pete had spat the sugary caffeine back into his mug five minutes later and Patrick was looking haughty. They were too busy laughing and telling jokes to really get any decent songwriting done. Even Patrick was pulled away from his toys to hang out with them. 

They'd survived a lot really, the four of them, survived the whirlwind of their career and all it threw at them. Pete knew there wasn't anyone else that had ever gone through that shit with them. No one else understood.

 

“This feels like a second vacation,” Patrick said, as they sat around outside, later in the day. “But like, rustic. Way more rustic than Jamaica.”

“It doesn't feel exactly like one. I'd never go on one with you guys ordinarily,” Joe joked, and Patrick smiled small at him, before looking away.

“Are you guys coming out to the public?” Andy asked, all of a sudden. Pete looked to Patrick, who suddenly seemed to shrink a little.

“Yeah, logically it makes sense. Don't wanna get caught out, I think we will the moment I'm back in the public eye,” Pete admitted. “I spoke to my publicist. She said to announce it the same time that we say we're back, to lessen the shock, or dull it among everything else.”

“No one ever took photos of me in the past, not really,” Patrick said. “Never had paparazzi follow me around like they did with Pete. I know I'm not gonna like it.”

“I'm not gonna be seeking it out like before,” Pete shrugged. It was maybe his biggest mistake way back then, feeding his desperate need for attention by being an absolute joy for the paps and a wreck to everyone else. “If we manage things carefully I think we'll do okay.”

“It's just the thought of the questions I might get asked. The things people could tweet. Like, you know, about the dynamics.”

Joe burst out laughing at that. “Dude, after the night before last, no one here is under any misguidance over how things work for you guys. You take it from Pete, but who gives a fuck.” Patrick was red at that comment, but it was pretty funny, and Joe had a point.

“I guess you're right.” Patrick smiled at Joe, still under the sway of his humiliation.

 

When Patrick was in the shower that night, Joe came over to Pete. They'd been going through some of the songs they'd already written. Between the ones that Pete and Patrick had worked on to completion before getting there, and the few they'd finished in the past few days, they had a lot done.

“Guess I was just coming over to say I was sorry. Not for giving you shit about your relationship,” Joe pointed out, and Pete laughed, even though it made him slightly nervous that he was bringing stuff up again. “More for how I acted right after it happened. I wasn't very helpful.”

“We all reacted in different ways. I always figured I'd have reacted the same if I hadn't been looking after him.”

“He still hasn't told you who did it?”

“No. He told me who they met through and he told me they took photos and videos of him which terrifies me. Makes me feel like they might try and, I dunno, do something with them at a later date? He's not had any contact with him or anything, so for now it's okay.”

“I want them dead for what they did.”

“Same, but I don't want you getting your ass sent to prison so we just... we have to deal with his decision and that's to forget who did it.”

Joe didn't seem happy with that. “What if they release footage of him? What if it comes out what happened?”

“I don't think it will. It's in his records, but they're sealed. If he ever wanted to tell the world what happened, I'd support him in it, but he's still trying to heal from what they did to him. I don't think he's ready for anyone else to know.”

Joe nodded eventually, but he still looked so pissed at it all. “I know it's selfish, but I've had a really bad time recently. I mean, I got married which was amazing, but what happened to Patrick rocked me. It knocked me off my feet and it's been fucking hard to get back from it.”

“Yeah.” Pete felt so much guilt at times, for not being there for Joe, even if he knew that he couldn't when he was dealing with Patrick himself. “I get nightmares too. Not like he does, but just... sometimes my head gets stuck on the way he looked the first time I saw him. Like, his bare feet. All I can see in my head is him sitting on the hospital bed that was way too tall for him. That his feet were like six inches off the ground and his toes were curled in. I see his feet and I see his neck black with fingerprints.”

“Dude...”

“No, I shouldn't say this shit to you, but it's just tough. Then I think about how he was back then to how he is now, and there is so much improvement. He's not 'okay' but he is better. There was no light, no life in him afterward, but he's brought it back now. I just try and focus on that.”

“I only agreed to do the band for his sake,” Joe admitted softly, “But it feels right being back here.”

“It's taken awhile to warm up, but I agree. We’re doing good as a four piece again.”

 

They went to bed that night and Pete insisted on a ton of Stump cuddles. Patrick laughed, but conceded, wrapping his arms over Pete and sucking him into his warmth. Even before they got together, way before the band broke up in the  first place, Patrick had always been soft and cuddly. Pete used to sneak his way into Patrick's bunk on occasion, just to seek out his warmth and affection. In hindsight, and knowing now how Patrick felt about him back then, he definitely felt like a huge asshole about it.

“I'm really proud of you, Patrick. Of how far you’ve come in the last year. After everything that happened to you, you've been able to build yourself back up, and I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“It was easier with your help,” Patrick admitted kindly. He pulled away and looked at Pete curiously. “But thanks, I guess.”

“You’ve always been brave, I just never realized how much.” Pete shrugged, leaning in to kiss Patrick. They kissed a few times over, because with Patrick, one kiss was never enough. “You should know I because I never tell you.”

“Okay.” Patrick looked down, sort of smiling but mostly seeming kinda embarrassed by Pete’s words. “Hey, after we get done here I was thinking I wanna go back to Glenview and see my mom.”

“You don't have to ask,” Pete laughed, but Patrick was shaking his head, clutching Pete's hand.

“I’m always gonna be fearful about the rape being leaked to the press. You never know, you know? I trust you, but here's a lot of people that know, like, you know, the people in my support group.”

“Isn’t it against the rules to talk about your group outside the group.” Pete knew he was privy to some gossip in the group that he shouldn’t be. Patrick wasn’t supposed to tell him anything about the people there, but he did anyway.

“It is, you’re not supposed to sleep with anyone from the group, but I know a couple that are. It’s just--it’s not that anyway. I just want my mom to know because a lot of people do already and I think I'm strong enough to tell her now.”

“What about your dad?” Patrick had been close with his dad at one point. Pete always remembered being borderline terrified of David Stumph when they first met, as if he somehow knew that Pete was way too shitty to be hanging out with his youngest.

“I don’t think I can tell him. If I did it’d be like with Joe. But I think he’d blame me more, because he always said I was a dreamer that would get himself into trouble. He wouldn’t mean to, but he still would.” Patrick smiled to himself, still holding Pete's hand, but he had a sad look about himself. “I could tell mom, and maybe Kevin and Megan. But not dad.”

“It’s not fair to tell them and not him,” Pete said gently. He didn’t want it to sound like he was chastising Patrick, who was a grown-ass adult, but he also knew how messy it could get otherwise. “Maybe tell your mom and write your dad a letter explaining it all? That way you’re telling him without having to say it.”

Patrick nodded his head at that, face clearing up and he pulled Pete in for another hug. “You’re full of good ideas. But really, I started this conversation to ask if you’d come with me to tell mom. I don’t wanna do it alone.”

“Of course I will.” The last thing Pete wanted to do was hear Patrick have to tell his own mother what happened to him, but if Patrick wanted him there, he wouldn’t ever drift anywhere else. “I’ll make sure to pack a big box of Kleenex. We’ll probably need it.”

“I know it will break her heart, but if it ever got out there, I couldn’t have her find out through the media,” Patrick said. He sounded snuffly himself, as he pulled back from Pete again. 

“I know it will suck, but we’ll get through it and then we’ll find something else to worry ourselves with and it won’t seem as bad,” Pete said, smiling when Patrick laughed at him. 

“Like coming out together,” Patrick said, leaning his head on Pete's shoulder. “That terrifies me a little bit, I can't lie.”

“Why does it scare you? It won’t be a big deal, we don’t have to make it a big deal.”

“I dunno. I guess in a way I'm scared about losing you to the press, or that it will become this huge thing where I won't be able to walk down the street without being photographed, that people might call us names. What if they say I broke up your marriage? What if they make me into _that_ person.”

“I've been divorced eighteen months. It won't be a thing, I promise you.” Pete couldn’t promise to stop those things being written, but he could shield Patrick from it as best as he could. “There’s gonna be talk about it and there’s probably gonna be a few photos taken of us, but I’m not that famous anymore. Not like I was.”

“And you don’t wanna seek it out like last time?” Patrick asked curiously, lifting his head. Pete shook his own, stroking Patrick’s hair. 

“Nah. That side of Pete is dead and buried. I wanna keep you and Bronx out of the spotlight as much as I can. Alright? We just gotta take it a bit at a time. Like we have with everything.” Pete rubbed Patrick’s shoulder, waiting for him to nod his head before he kissed his cheek.

“I'm sorry I'm such a baby about everything,” Patrick said, but he wasn’t and Pete didn’t care either way. He just kissed Patrick some more.


	14. Chapter 14

By the end of that week Patrick had decided that he was finally ready to work on Death Valley with the rest of the guys. They didn't have much time left anyway. There'd finally been a balance created, a healed scab forming over the friendship between Joe and Pete, but he was worried that the lyrics might upset the balance.

“The lyrics though, Patrick…” Pete mumbled in the bedroom. “I don't know what Joe's reaction will be to them.”

“You know I can't deal with anymore arguing between you guys,” Patrick said, not all that sympathetically, but then his look changed and he bit his lip as he looked at Pete. “This song is really hard for me, but if I can cope with it, then he can too.”

“It wasn't supposed to be like it is.” Pete groaned into his hands. “It's straight up awful.”

“Not really,” Patrick shrugged. “‘It’s just fire alarms and losing you’… how many times have those words helped me through things? It's just a matter of perception.”

Pete was still nervous though as they played the demo to the others. He bit at the side of his thumb, hoping to God that he wouldn't get shouted at for once. He'd been told off so much in the past ten days that it was getting to him.

“This song is really difficult to me, “ Patrick said once the song had finished. “Pete's lyrics are a bit...they were a struggle but I've found a lot of new meaning in them. _Anyway_ , I just...this is a little bit like a baby for me and I need it handled with care, but it's too much for me to work on, so I need you to help.”

“I think I've stuck my nose where it's not wanted too much recently,” Joe admitted. Pete watched Patrick shrug and laugh awkwardly instead of agreeing. “If the lyrics mean a lot to you then I'm not gonna fight them.”

“I wrote them over a year ago,” Pete piped up, wanting it to be clear. “I wrote them before what happened to Patrick...happened, but-”

“You don't need to explain,” Joe cut in. Andy was silent through it all, but that was just his way. “Look, I gotta stop meddling with your relationship. You make each other happy, these lyrics are dubious and I'm, like, fighting against myself a little because my dude's upset, but shouting at you won't help and he clearly wants this song to work out so I'm just gonna help and not add lyrical input.”

“Oh, thank God,” Patrick said, letting out a giggly breath. “That wasn't the reaction I was expecting.” Pete smiled at Patrick's words, seeing Joe just bat a hand like it wasn't a big deal.

Joe and Patrick went off together to work on the song as Pete sat there stroking his dog and talking to Andy. It was supposed to be about the beat in the song, but they weren't those type of guys so they were just talking about Metallica instead. 

“Are you really ready to come out with him though? Is he really ready for it because in the nicest way, he's still not as well as I realized.” Pete shrugged when Andy changed the subject. Andy had been around Patrick more than Joe in the past year, but they could hide things fairly easy in Pete's LA pad. 

“I think if we do things low key it will be alright. Hiding it won't help anyone, but I'm not in the press much either now.” Pete scratched the side of his head. He hadn't been panicking much at all until everyone brought it up. “He's never gonna be the way he was, a part of him is never gonna be well. It sucks, but he is getting better. All the food issues were actually gone before we got here, but I think it's gonna be a continual thing. He's done this all without being on meds, not that it makes him any better than anyone else, but it shows his strength.”

“Yeah, I wouldn't doubt it,” Andy said. “I think it's something you need to think about it well.”

By the end of the day the song still wasn't finished, but Patrick was done working on it. He told Joe to work on it himself, to email him the finished product. That was giving up way more control than he had in the past, but Pete could see how tired he was and when they finally had time alone, Patrick pulled him in for a tight hug.

“Dude, that song is so hard!” he laughed, breathing tight against Pete's neck. “It’s so hard and I really wish it wasn’t.”

“Is it still the lyrics?” Pete asked, rubbing Patrick's back, and then his face when he pulled away.

“Not really. I think I'll just always associate it with what happened to me and how I felt when I first read the lyrics, so it takes me back to that place. It feels important to sing about, but that doesn't mean it’s easy.” Patrick flopped forward, resting his head against Pete's chest before they cuddled some more.

They wrote some more songs over the next few days, Patrick slowly getting more and more bossy. No one really called him out on it, maybe glad to have him that way again. It worked for the songs, he had good skills and direction and he did allow input into the songs. 

Then it was time to leave. Patrick hugged Joe for a solid five minutes as Pete loaded the car up. Man, he couldn't wait to go home and see his kid, he’d missed him so bad. He kinda needed some time to decompress anyway, after what had been a pretty rough attack on his spirit at times. It had been one long therapy session. 

They made plans to book a recording studio in a month's time to get the songs down. They needed to shop around for a producer, someone that could deal with Patrick at his bossiest. Considering he'd been fairly subdued as they wrote the record, Pete imagined he'd really let loose in the studio. 

“Are you ready for things to change in the next few months?” Pete asked, as he drove them away from the cabin and back to civilization. Patrick was sitting crossed legged in the passenger seat, head resting against the window. He'd always been so weird.

“I dunno,” Patrick admitted truthfully. “I'm excited though. Even if it takes it out of me.”

 

Pete got the old food plans out the moment they got home. He really wanted to make sure Patrick was back on the right path again. He was eating in the cabin by the end, but those weeks out there weren't real life and they need him stable if they really want to progress.  
Patrick wasn't thrilled when Pete started planning the meals like before, but he could hardly argue. He just sulked about it for a while, before coming around to the idea.

“It’s just frustrating,” Patrick sighed, sitting at the breakfast bar as Pete cooked. “It's embarrassing that it's even an issue.”

“It really isn’t,” Pete said, shrugging. “We’re just monitoring things.”

“It sucks,” Patrick said again, but he didn't argue, even if his bottom lip stuck out in a sulk.

Getting to see Bronx again after three weeks was the biggest thing. He'd spoken to him on the phone but it wasn't the same. Holding him up he felt heavier, like he’d grown some more, and Pete wasn’t impressed. He didn't want his kid growing up too quick. 

Bronx wanted cuddles from Patrick after that, which was even better to see. It just warmed Pete's heart up, it was a weird proud dad _and_ boyfriend moment. They sat outside together, indulging Bronx in his excited rambling, making them play with him until he passed out in Pete's lap.

He got to have his kid for a full week, for missing out on the past three and it was amazing. It helped take both their minds off what was going to be a hectic next few months. 

“You want any kids, Patrick? Feel like I should know that answer,” Pete said, as they lay exhausted in bed. They’d taken Bronx to a soft play center earlier in the day, but he'd forced them into the ball pit with him and it was so tiring. Patrick was like this mix of step-parent and best buddy for Bronx. Pete always felt like he was being conspired against whenever the two were together.

“I want four,” Patrick said, rolling onto his stomach to face Pete. He was tired, but he was smiling at Pete so sweetly that his heart basically melted. “Four more, at least. Or maybe that would be three. I dunno. Too tired for math.”

“That's a lot of kids,” Pete laughed, but he liked the idea of them having a whole brood of kids. A superhero team of misfits. “We’d need a bigger house.”

Patrick smiled again, resting his fingers on Pete’s chest. “I figured we’d add them all gradually, but like… Give it a few years first. Get the band up and running again and let my PTSD settle some more.”

“Sounds good.” Pete shut his eyes, relaxing against the body beside him.

As good as it was to be home, they were soon packing a bag and heading back to the airport for a flight to Illinois. As Patrick had decided he wanted to tell his mom what happened, it seemed like a good idea to do it sooner than later.

“I haven't written the letter to my dad yet. I don't know how to put it,” Patrick said on the plane. “It's such a hard thing to say.”

“You could discuss it with Lori, maybe? She made you write down what happened once, right? Are your parents in contact? Is she likely to tell him?”

“They don't talk anymore, they don't have any reason to,” Patrick admitted. “Man, this is so hard. Feels like I'm letting them down.”

“Don't say stuff like that Patrick. This isn't you letting anyone down.” Pete took his hand and squeezed it, trying to force some determination into Patrick. “Do you know how you wanna tell your mom?”

“ _No._ ” Patrick bit his lip and rubbed at his head for a moment. A member of cabin crew walked past smiling, and he waited until he was gone before continuing. “I guess I just have to be honest, but it's awful thinking about it.”

“We'll get through it together, and if not, we’ll just get drunk,” Pete said. It made Patrick laugh, nodding his head in response.

 

Glenview never fucking changed. It wasn't Pete's scene at all, reminded him too much of what he'd left long behind. Patrick, though, was excited. He wanted to stop for ice cream at his favorite parlor. 

“I always feel energized coming home,” Patrick said, as they ate the ice cream. It was warm so they sat on the hood of the car slap bang in the middle of suburbia. Pete felt like such a dad. “Maybe even more so than before.”

“How come?” Pete asked. 

“Just reminds me of being a kid. I had a good life here.” Patrick stopped to swipe his tongue against his toffee pecan scoop. “But, I feel kinda like my life is in two halves now; before and after the rape. Didn't think anything like that could ever happen when I lived here.”

“Yeah that makes sense.” Pete nodded his head, always half an eye on his surroundings. Being back here always made him terrified he'd walk into someone from his old, old life. Glenview wasn't his hometown but it was close enough. 

“Can we buy a place here? I want a safe house here.” Calling it a safe house totally made Pete think that Patrick's list of issues were another few inches longer, but whatever. He shook his head. 

“Patrick, I'm not living in fucking Glenview. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

“LA would still be our main house, just one here to get away from the chaos back there,” Patrick said. He had that big eyed look on his face, but Pete was shaking his head as he laughed.

“We can check a few places out one day closer to the city, but you are not moving me back into this ghost town. ”

“It's not a ghost town. It means a lot to me,” Patrick said, but Pete just rolled his eyes, not buying Patrick's words at all. 

 

“Hey just think, the first time we ever met was at this front door,” Pete said as he pulled into Patrick's mom's driveway. It was forever ago now, but he could still picture Patrick so sharply; shorts, socks and argyle in all that terrible glory. 

“I think I was an ass to you that day,” Patrick said, touching Pete's hand as he stayed still in the seat, not ready to unbuckle. “I'm sorry.”

“Dude, you know I liked it.” Pete leaned over, to kiss Patrick's cheek softly. “We can do this, alright? Together.”

Patrick's mom hadn't decorated since the last time Pete was here and everything looked so familiar as they were welcomed in. She was beckoning Pete into the house with the same amount of kisses she always saved for Patrick.

He felt like an oversized kid sitting next to Patrick on the loveseat. Patrick was holding his hand a little too tight, as his mom sat opposite smiling at them. 

“You know, Pete, I always hoped this would happen. That you two would find each other,” She said, smiling at him. Patrick felt hot beside him. 

“Mom, please,” Patrick said, sounding embarrassed. Pete remembers his mom saying the same thing before they got together. It wasn't anything new. 

“I didn't mean to embarrass you,” she laughed, but then gave him a soft look. “I am happy for you both, though.”

“I know you are mom, but that's not why we came.”

“Are you having a civil wedding?” she asked, to which Pete choked. 

“No wedding, no union. I kinda… I did that wrong once and it burned me,” Pete said, hoping not to disappoint Patrick or his mom too much. 

“... And you're not adopting or anything?”

“Nope,” Patrick laughed. “We only talked about it a week ago and we're taking it slow, but we are getting the band back together. We just finished writing the album.”

“Oh wow that's… I didn't know you wanted that.” She frowned, suddenly looking at Patrick. “You've not been right, Patrick. Not for a long time. You need to tell me what's going on.”

“Yeah, that's why we're here.” Patrick looked over at Pete, but he just squeezed his hand. This needed to come from Patrick. “There's something I need to tell you. Just in case it ever came out in the press. I don't think it will, but--”

“It's alright,” Pete whispered, when he felt Patrick's heartbeat pick up from his pulse. 

His mom picked up on it. “Patrick, you're worrying me.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just want you to know that I'm okay. I'm not in a bad place.”

“ _Patrick._ ” When Pete looked at Patrick's mom, her eyes were wet and filled with worry. “Were you on drugs?”

“ No.” Patrick laughed. “No it wasn't that. Look, okay.” he swallowed, before taking a breath. “Before Pete and I got back in contact I was in… you know I wasn't in good place.”

“I told you to come back here, but you wouldn't listen.”

“Mom, please. You're really not helping.” Patrick licked his lips. “I was… I started to see this guy. This man...He was nice when I didn't have anyone else so I just…”

Patrick stopped talking and turned to Pete. Pete was at a loss, not sure what to say, whether it was even his place. 

“You want me to continue?” he asked and Patrick immediately nodded, mouthing that he was sorry. Pete shook it off, taking pity on Patrick's mom, who was looking increasingly upset. “Patrick went on a few dates with a guy, but when he didn't want to take it any further the guy refused.”

“Patrick… What?” She looked confused, frowning as if she hadn't heard anything Pete just said. 

“I'm really sorry. It's my fault, but I couldn't… I didn't…” Patrick's breathing increased and his nails dug tight to Pete's hand. 

“Patrick had the nurse phone me when he was in the hospital. I've been looking after him, or I was, before he got better.”

“Please don't be mad,” Patrick cut in. “I know it was my fault, that I was stupid, but I just…”

Patricia was pale, still looking at the two of them. “Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?”

“Unfortunately I am, yeah,” Pete said. “It's left an impact on both our lives, but like… Patrick really wanted you to know.”

“I knew you were in some form of trouble… but I'd never guessed. Oh Patrick.” She got up and hugged him almost violently. Pete could see that Patrick was trying to fight it and push her off but eventually he went with it. 

It was a hard afternoon with a lot of crying until Patrick said he needed a rest. They were all grateful for the excuse to leave the room. They left his mom downstairs, reeling from it. 

“You never said it was two of them, or that I invited him over,” Patrick said softly. All of his smiles from the morning eating ice cream were gone and the dimpled corners of his mouth were down turned. 

“It saves her from hearing the details. She doesn't need to hear them, you know? Just knowing it happened is devastating. Look at what it did to Joe.”

“Yeah, you're right.” Patrick rolled onto his side, touching his fingers to Pete's cheek. “I'm sure lucky to get you after all this.”

“You talk too sweet,” Pete said, but he soaked up the praise all the same. 

Patrick fell asleep twenty minutes later, maybe it was the adrenaline crash, Pete wasn't sure, but he felt like Patrick's mom probably needed him more now, than her son did. 

He found her sitting in the kitchen with glass of whiskey, staring out at her back garden. 

“When I moved into this house it was just me and him. He came later than expected, my other kids are a fair bit older and by the time I got this house I was divorced and the others were all at college.” Pete nodded his head, not really knowing what else to say. “We moved in at the beginning of the year, but by the spring he'd joined your band and I hardly saw much of him.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Pete said. She didn't sound mad, just lost in old memories. “He was bugging me into buying him a house in Glenview today. He misses it more than he admits.”

“He's always been a good kid. That's why I was shocked when he announced you guys were together. I didn't think you ever really felt the same.”

Oh God, Pete didn't want this conversation. It was bad enough with his own mom, let alone Patrick's. 

“It took me a while to see his side of things. I dunno…” he paused, shrugging when she looked at him. “Maybe I saw it too late, at the wrong time, but we're happy. We make each other happy.”

“Please don't tell me he broke up your marriage? He would never tell any of us about his private life. I had no idea you were divorced until he said you guys were hanging out. He's a romantic. I always worried about him.”

“He didn't break it up,” Pete laughed, the thought was absurd. “I ruined that for myself and was already divorced when he came into it. Is that… is that really what you think?”

“Kevin was adamant that must've been what was keeping Patrick so distant.” she laughed sadly. “We all thought he'd got involved and then felt bad, you know what he's like.”

“It's a shitty thought, but I think I'd prefer that to what was the cause.”

“What was he _doing?_ ” she asked and Pete grimaced, not wanting to call her out for words like that. She caught herself though, resting her head in her hands. “I don't blame him. I just… what about the man that did this?”

“Patrick didn't want to take it further. It's been better this way for him.” Pete rubbed at his own forehead, wishing that he knew what to say. “I'm looking after him. Paying him back for the years he stuck by me.”

She nodded her head, taking a sip of her drink. “Does anyone else in the family know?”

“No. He wants to tell his dad in a letter, but it's mostly just myself, Joe and Andy that know. Aside from his therapist.” she nodded again. 

“I can tell his brother and sister if he likes. If he wants them to know.”

“I think he'd appreciate that, yeah.” Pete swallowed, but he could tell by this point that she wanted to be alone again so he traipsed back up to Patrick's old room. 

Patrick was awake and on his phone, but he quickly clicked it shut as he saw Pete approach. Pete gave him a quick look before falling onto the bed. 

“How's mom?” Patrick asked, holding his hand out for Pete to take. “Is she mad?”

“No she's not mad,” Pete laughed sadly. “She's in shock I think.”

“I feel awful for telling her. It's like I let her down,” Patrick said slowly. “I know I have to work on my self blame issues some more. Just feel like I'm to blame.”

“You can't help it, I know,” Pete responded. He put his arm over Patrick's shoulders, looking up at the ceiling. “Actually, you wanna know something funny?”

“Yeah…” Patrick rolled over, to stare mostly at Pete's jaw. 

“Everyone thought in your family thought you were a homewrecker that ruined my marriage. They thought that's why you were so different because you felt guilty about it. Apparently, Kevin was adamant.”

“I would never do that!” Patrick laughed. “I guess I need to tell them to pay closer attention to the gossip rags.”

“It does sound like something you'd do, though,” Pete smiled down at Patrick, who shrugged, but he couldn't deny it. “And anyway, what were you doing on your phone before I got here?”

“Nothing.” Patrick's poker face was always terrible, and already his mouth flickered, trying to think up a lie before he gave up. “I just thought I'd look up some real estate in the area.”

“Goddammit Patrick, I'm not moving to fucking Glenview.”

“It doesn't have to be Glenview! And remember it would only be for, like a few months of the year. We could come up here for a real Christmas. It's not the same in Cali. A real Christmas with Bronx in the cold. Like what we had as kids.”

“First I buy you a dog and now it's a never ending list,” Pete said, but he was trying not to smile. “Learned so much about you this week. From wanting a soccer team of kids, to a house back in your home town.”

“Can we at least look at some places in a five mile radius,” Patrick asked, wriggling until he could reach for his phone again. He unlocked it, handing it over to Pete. “Look at this one. Look at how lush the garden is. You don't get that where we are.”

“I bet you won't be the one cutting the lawn,” Pete said, indulging Patrick's silliness for the time being. He wasn't buying a house in Glenview though. Nothing could convince him to do it. 

They went back downstairs to see Patrick's mom some more but she wasn't okay. Pete could see now why Patrick had only told her he was mugged when it happened. He was glad they waited until now, that Patrick was strong enough to hug his mom and tell her he was okay now, even if it wasn't necessarily true. He was healing, at least.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's coming up to the last few chapters now, I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them :)

They went back downstairs to see Patrick's mom a while later, but she wasn't okay. Pete could see now why Patrick had only told her he was mugged when it happened. He was glad they waited until now, that Patrick was strong enough to hug his mom and tell her he was okay now, even if it wasn't necessarily true. He was healing, at least.

They left the next day to get back to LA, but his mom pulled them into the tightest hug as they made to leave, like she was having trouble letting go. Patrick kissed her cheek and promised to phone her more often; that she should come visit them down in LA. 

Patrick wrote the letter to his dad on the plane. It was quicker to email, maybe, but that seemed so harsh when they talked about it. If anything ever happened to Bronx, Pete would be devastated to find out via email. 

“Try and keep your writing legible,” Pete joked to Patrick, to try and soothe him. It wasn't going to be an easy thing to write about. Patrick smiled genuinely, pen smoothing over the pages of Pete's notebook.

He only wrote for a half hour before he decided he didn't want to continue with it in public. He tucked the pages away in his bag, sliding the pen into his pocket before touching Pete's hand briefly.

“Don't wanna upset myself in public,” Patrick whispered his explanation. “I keep thinking about how he's gonna feel when he reads it and he'll be devastated, I know he will. That's worse than writing down what happened to me.”

“Finish it when we get home,” Pete said, wanting to stroke his knuckles down the side of Patrick's face, but settling for touching his hand briefly.

When they got back to the house, Patrick immediately disappeared to finish writing his letter to his dad. Pete had a whole list of things he needed to do, but he just sat around, looking at old pictures of Bronx on his phone. 

“I wrote it.” Pete could hear Patrick’s voice before he saw him, and smiled up at him as he blustered into the den, sitting bedside Pete on the couch. He handed over the notebook and asked Pete to read it. “It’s not too much, is it?”

_Hey Dad._  
_This feels so silly writing you a letter. I don't think I ever have, apart from when when I still believed in Santa and you made me write letters to him! I guess that was basically you. This isn't a Christmas wish list though, and it isn't me promising to be good._  
_I know you weren't all that thrilled when you found out that I was with Pete. I don't know why, when you knew how I felt, but honestly a lot of people feel like that about us getting together. Joe's taken it terribly, but he's okay with it now. At least, he doesn't shout at Pete so much now. I'm glad, because the band is getting back together and we all need to be on the same page, you know?_  
_I'd like to come visit at some point with Pete if that's okay. I know you said you were happy, but I know you're not. Believe me when  I say I've never been happier or in a more stable relationship. This isn't what I planned to write about, but it’s hard to say without plenty of buildup, so I guess here goes nothing…_  
_Last year, late summer, I was in such a bad place. My career flunked and I wasn't partying, but I was drinking a lot and I stopped eating. I lost weight, more than I already did a couple of years ago. I was depressed and then I met this guy.  I always skip over the parts when I talk to other people about how he made me feel at first. He always complimented the way I looked, said that he liked it….sorry dad, I know you don't want to hear this, but somehow it's important to write it down. He said I was attractive and I didn't feel like it very much, never have, but I felt it even more. Somehow he was always there to pour me another drink, which I haven't really thought about until I started writing this, but I dunno. I wanted to try something new. The only man I'd ever wanted was Pete, but he'd never been interested in me, and then this new guy was and he was so tall and handsome. He's a monster to me now, but I can still see myself looking at him like I did back then. He was twice the size of me and I never really felt comfortable with it, but part of me was, the part that he always got drunk and the part that liked the compliments. I suppose we were dating somehow, but I had no experience with men so I was holding back from him and I always stopped things before they get heavy. We got into an argument about it and I kicked him out of my apartment. I wasn't ready to sleep with him and after the way he went about things earlier I was a little scared about what I'd nearly allowed happen. Of course, being what my life was back then, he came back an hour or so later with a friend and finished the job. I can't write down what they did to me, I can tell it to some people, mostly Pete and my therapist, but not to you, dad, I don't want you to know what happened. Can you fill in between the lines from this? If I tell you that the term survivor has now been slapped onto my character, does that explain? I went to the hospital after what happened and I had them call Pete. I've been living with him ever since, but we only got together on New Year’s Eve. It sounds like a dream that I'd always wanted, but it came after a nightmare and I'm not the same guy anymore. I've lost friends over this, I've gained some new ones and decreased my mental stability by a good 75%. I'm happy with Pete though and I want you to be happy with him too. Happy that I'm happy because after writing this down, I find it amazing that I'm still alive. I wanted to die before the attack and I wanted to die even more during it. I think I was dead when Pete found me again, but he’s breathed something back inside me and I'm so so grateful. You need to be too._  
_I don't want to really ever talk to you about this in person because I'll probably break down about it, but you need to know. I told mom the day before I wrote this and she's going to tell Megan and Kevin. It scares me having you all know, but I know you all love me. Don't be too broken by this...I'm healing from it and I'm happy now._  
_I love you so much,  
_ _Patrick_

“That's a good letter,” Pete told Patrick handing it over. He hated the idea of Patrick wanting to die. He's wanted it too in the past, but reading it in Patrick's own words aloud broke his heart a little.

“I wanted to be honest with him. I always have been in the past, but this was really hard. I almost forgot how low I was before the assault. I'd never thought about how much the guy was keeping me drunk until now.”

“It’s good you’ve learned that. Maybe you can see that if you'd been sober around him you would have seen his intentions earlier.” Pete didn't want it to come across that he was blaming Patrick for it, but as Patrick seemed to take his words seriously and without offense he seemed to get it.

“Maybe.” Patrick nodded his head. “I think I liked the attention though. That's why I blame myself so much.”

“You're not to blame for what happened.” Pete wondered how often he'd said that to Patrick now. It's one of the only things they hadn't been able to heal him from.

“Sometimes I know that. Sometimes it's hard to think like that, when I threw my responsibility away.” Patrick shook his head, eyes closing sadly. “One of the only times I wasn't sensible in life and I'm paying for it so badly.”

“You're alright.” Pete put an arm over Patrick's shoulder, pulling him into his body. He kissed his forehead and felt Patrick sink against him. When a few minutes had passed of the two of them just laying together, Pete piped up again. “I had no idea your dad was against us dating. You said he took it well.”

“He's not gonna ban me dating you. As a twenty-eight year old, he knows that's a little late,” Patrick laughed, sitting up again. He kissed Pete's cheek softly, smiling at him. “It was more of a quiet, long-suffering reluctance to allow me to find things out for myself.”

“Like a less angry Joe?” Pete questioned, laughing when Patrick nodded. “Well, I guess I deserve it.” 

“I'll always defend you from it,” Patrick insisted. He always had in the past, fiercely so. Knowing how hard Patrick always defended him in the past sucked when Pete thought about why Patrick felt so strongly. “I can deal with dad anyway.”

Patrick posted the letter later in the day. There was something funny in that, in posting a letter to his dad, but Pete didn't bring it up. He couldn't remember the last time he sent a letter, he didn't respond to the fan mail that reached his house and there were emails for everything else. 

Pete had a whole mountain of things he should be doing. Like, now they'd written the album he needed to get in contact with the label and let them know, he needed to book a recording studio and producer for them to get the music down in. Then at least one photo shoot needed to be booked for promotional stuff. That could wait until later, but Pete's mind always worked in overdrive. 

And he knew he had Brendon to deal with too. He needed to sit him down and really talk shit out. He'd planned on having Patrick with him so that they could discuss it all as adults, but Patrick wasn't ready for that, he knew. It also meant that he probably needed to have a serious conversation with Patrick too, maybe with Lori. So that it was discussed in a professional setting. So much of Patrick's issues with Brendon were about his own self esteem and Pete didn't know how he could fix that alone. 

It was only two days later that Pete had a phone call. He'd been in a meeting for some label stuff and was on his way back to the car when he finally picked up on the final ring. He answered as he threw himself behind the wheel, zoned out from all the boring legal shit he'd been working with.

“Hi. This is David Stumph...Patrick's dad. This is Pete, right?” Pete sat up a little straighter, panicking in his chest at dealing with this alone. 

“Yeah, hi. This is Pete. Is everything okay?” Pete asked, keeping his voice calm and level.

“I got Patrick's letter today in the post. I've been trying to call him but he isn't picking up.” The bastard. Pete knew Patrick was at home today, he left him writing music in Pete's office. 

“I think he's at Target,” Pete lied, covering for Patrick mostly out of ease. “So...uh. You read the letter, then? That's why you're calling.”

“Jesus Christ. Is it true?” David's voice was soft, like he was overwhelmed. Pete got it, he understood just fine. 

“Yeah, it’s true. He wanted to tell you, but didn't know how so he wrote it down instead. He's not to blame for any of this.”

“Of course he isn't!” David's voice came through loud and Pete winced. “I'm sorry, but this is all too much.”

“I was just saying because he blames himself for what happens. Because he was drinking and he had a crush on the guy. There's so much self blame in the kid that I sorta… that I'm just desperate for everyone that knows to know that he had no part in what happened.”

“I don't understand how it happened to him. I worried for Megan growing up, you're supposed to worry about these things happening to your daughters, not your son.” That, like, broke Pete's heart so much he pushed his hand against his chest. “I don't know how I'm supposed to feel right now.”

“It happened nearly a year ago,” Pete said, almost shocked when he realized. Nearly a year of having Patrick in his life, and his world being turned upside down. “He's in a pretty good place right now. He isn't the same as he was before, but he's strong and he really is healing from this.”

“And you're helping him? You've been helping him since it happened?” David asked. Pete nodded his head, before remembering he couldn't see through the phone.

“Yeah. He's been staying with me since the night it happened. We didn't get together for a long time after. We've been taking things slow.”

“I can't say I was thrilled when I heard you guys were together, but you make him happy and this is what he always wanted. Even I knew that and he never spoke of it to me.”

“It took me a good while to realize shit, but now I have I never want to let it go. He's doing good though, I promise you,” Pete said, even though promising the dad of the guy he loved was kind of crazy. Made him feel like he was about to propose, or ask David's hand for permission of some kind. 

“I'm fine with you, if you look after him,” David said softly. “I need to talk to my son about what happened though, can you tell him to stop ignoring my call?”

“Yeah, I will do.” They hung up after saying their goodbyes. His dad sounded okay. Shaken up, but not as devastated as his mom had been. Maybe he was better at faking it through the phone. Maybe not hearing Patrick say it in person had made the blow softer. Pete didn't know, but he was glad that David’s feelings weren't hanging over him. He'd made the habit in the past of pissing off his partners fathers, but he didn't want it to be like that with Patrick's dad. He was glad for the change.

When Pete walked back into the house, he could see Patrick drinking tea at the breakfast bar. He had a book in front of him and his legs swinging out of reach from the metal bar of the stool he was sitting on. 

“You owe me a thousand kisses,” Pete told Patrick, taking a seat beside him. Patrick gave him a curious look, so Pete just ruffled his hair. “Pick up your phone, asshole. I just had to deal with your dad.”

“Oh shit.” Patrick’s face dropped, thumb pressing nervously against his lip. “He was calling me all morning, but I couldn't face talking to him about it. What was he like?”

“He was shaken up, but okay. Better than your mom, but I think it's because he didn't have to look at you as he found out. He's even okay with me, so there's a plus.” Pete smiled, waiting for Patrick to relax and laugh. “Next time he phones, pick it up. You’ll feel better for talking to him.”

“I know. I just hate being vulnerable to everyone, like I'm just a little bit more pathetic than everyone else because I let it happen.”

“Don't say shit like that,” Pete said, but he didn't raise his voice and Patrick just shrugged, like he wouldn't have his mind changed. “You didn't let anything happen. But just listen to me when I say that your dad cares and he isn't mad. Maybe just a little confused.”

“I'll talk to him eventually, just not today,” Patrick said. “I'm sorry for making you deal with him though. That wasn't fair.”

“It's alright. _I_ feel better for talking to him. He's not mad at me for being with you, maybe suspicious still, but I think he's warmed up to it.” Pete brushed Patrick's blond hair over to the side, so it wasn't so flopped in his face. “One less person to hate me for dating you.”

“Just wait until you deal with my brother,” Patrick laughed, but Pete could deal with big brothers. He was one himself, so he had that in common. “I'm sorry though. Can I make it up to you?”

“You don't need to make it up.” Pete only said it because he didn't want to feed Patrick's low self-esteem/self-blaming methods, but he did smile and lean over to kiss his mouth. “You could take me out on a date though.”

“I can do that,” Patrick laughed, nodding his head.

They had dinner at the seafront restaurant they'd gone to in the past and Patrick was boasting to Pete as he ate his risotto with glee. He looked happy under the warm lighting and Pete wanted to soak it up so he could remember it when he was facing the other side of Patrick.

“Look at me, eating all this food just like I used to,” Patrick, scooping another mouthful of rice into his mouth. “Fuck the food plans. I don't need them today.”

“Not today, but they're still good to have around,” Pete said back, carefully, watching Patrick shrug dismissively.

“I feel so much relief now my family know. They won't find out the wrong way and no one blamed me,” Patrick answered back, this time taking a gulp from his drink. “Now the next thing to worry about is coming out. I don't even care about the album, or I'm not worried just yet. It's the whole announcing us that's worrying.”

“Don't worry about it,” Pete said, knowing that was a useless thing to say. “I emailed my publicist earlier and she said I should start tweeting shit about being happy, or like, alluding to being in love without saying a damn thing. Makes everything seem more natural and obvious once we say we've been seeing each other.”

“There’s nothing natural in planning a tweet,” Patrick laughed, but he'd never really understood how PR stuff worked. “I think I’ll let you handle that shit and I'll focus on the album.”

“That’s a good idea. I like seeing you in your natural environment and its been forever. Like, since Folie.” Pete watched Patrick’s face briefly flicker to something unpleasant before settling on a smile. Honestly, Folie hadn't been great for anyone, professionally or personally. “I know we had our...issues back then, but now we're out of it I can say that I appreciate your feistiness, just maybe try and aim it at the producer this time.”

“I know I got kinda pushy, but…” Patrick started to say, but then shrugged as if Pete didn't deserve an apology. He was probably right. “Hey, can you get us Butch? I want to work with Butch again. I think he’d work well with the songs we've got.”

“He won't turn it down, I don't think. You can ask him though, and find a studio you want to work out of. Leave me to do the boring stuff,” Pete said and then scooped pasta into his mouth. “Let's not talk work. This is a date.”

The date went well. They ate their food and Patrick even wanted pudding so they shared a sundae and Patrick's eyes glittered under the warm lighting, or maybe it was just the fucking hearts in his own eyes reflecting. Pete couldn't tell. 

They weren't ready to call it a night either, even though Pete was fairly certain they'd probably have sex and it had been a while since their last time. It was rare that Patrick wanted to go out and so Pete allowed him to hail a cab to a bar, looking forward to getting drunk together.

Pete pushed Patrick into getting them a table as he got the drinks in. It wasn't too crowded, just enough people to create a buzzing atmosphere. He had to wait a little to get the drinks, but by that point Patrick was sitting in a booth, looking typically awkward.

“Alright?” Pete asked, sliding into the booth beside Patrick, and putting the drinks down in front of them. His ass had barely hit the seat before Patrick was pulling at his face and kissing. Pete went with it, only backing away when Patrick did. “Uh, okay? That's like, the opposite of keeping the PDA to a minimum.”

“This guy started hitting on me when I sat down and now he keeps staring. I told him I had a boyfriend, but I don’t know. I don't think he believed me.” Patrick peeked from over Pete's shoulder, slapping at Pete when he tried to do the same. “I can't see him now. Thank God.”

“Pity.” Pete grunted, leaving his arm over Patrick’s shoulder as he sat back. “Kinda wanna go all possessive boyfriend on his ass.”

“No, that’s okay,” Patrick laughed, but he looked paler than normal, even as he sipped his drink. He leaned into Pete and changed the subject, smiling and clearly not wanting to focus on whatever had spooked him. 

So Pete ignored it, and just tried to enjoy a rare night out with Patrick. They usually got drunk together at home, but it was nice being out. Pete had always been pretty extroverted at times, but now he preferred being anywhere with Patrick. They didn't kiss much, not after that first frantic time. You never knew who had shitty sneaky cameras in bars like this and they were so close to publicly announcing things, it would be more than annoying to lose that control on a kissing whim.

When they left to go home, Patrick wanted to hop right into the shower. No sex tonight, Pete realized, but he didn't care. The lights of the city looked good from his porch, high up in the valley, and he just wanted to hang out with Patrick. Pete took a bottle of whiskey outside, pouring two glasses and waiting for Patrick.

Patrick took forever in the shower, enough that Pete knew it wasn't his normal one. When he did show his face, his skin was a hot pink, and even warmer to touch. He didn't need Pete to tell him off.

“Sometimes I wish I could go back to before,” Patrick said, taking a seat beside Pete. He took the glass handed to him and drank two large sips of it. “Back when I was fat, in shitty clothes and ugly sideburns because I hated myself still, but at least no one looked at me. Being hit on tonight just made me feel dirty. Like I need to be clean.”

“You don't see it as a compliment?” Pete questioned, watching Patrick shake his head.

“Maybe before last year. I remember getting hit on a lot when I was touring Soul Punk, and it felt like a novelty because it was such a rare thing to what I was used to,” Patrick laughed, looking at Pete softly. “Now I feel like… I dunno. Gross because they think things about my body and they could do whatever they wanted. I thought being a guy would stop that, but it doesn’t.”

“I wouldn't let anyone do anything to you,” Pete insisted, but he knew it wasn't the point. 

“It’s like I can read their thoughts and the things they think about this.” Patrick waved his hands at his body, lips curled in disgust. “I know what they think because the guys that… they said shit about it when it happened, so I just know. It fucking sucks.”

The last part didn't make a whole lot of sense to Pete, but he'd always remind himself that he was happy about that. He didn't want to know. He put his arm over Patrick, kissing the side of his temple. There wasn't anything to say to change his mind, but at least he was there, with open arms and enough booze to numb the worst of the pain.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the break, hope your holidays went well :)

Pete decided he'd waited long enough to talk with Brendon. It needed to happen before things got even more confused between them all. He wanted to do it with Patrick, so the three of them could lay it all out on the table, but he knew Patrick would back out of that right away. 

“So, I'm gonna go and see Brendon tomorrow.” Pete tried to test the waters over coffee the next morning. Patrick looked over at him, eyes wide but blank. “Is that okay with you?”

“I'm not your keeper,” Patrick answered, which basically gave Pete his opinion. “You can do what you want.”

“Things can't continue like this, Patrick. I know he makes you uncomfortable and that my old relationship with him is an issue, but I can't help the things I've done in the past.”

“I've never said otherwise,” Patrick insisted, but Pete could see the way he was closing in and becoming obtuse. Pete would be the bigger guy if he had to. “You’re his label boss. You're always going to have some kind of relationship with him.”

“Yeah, I am. But that doesn't mean you have to feel worried about it. I promise you,” Pete insisted. He tried to take Patrick’s hand, but he wasn't really having any of it.

“I can't believe you on this one, okay? I don't know why he upsets me so much, but he does and it makes me uncomfortable, _but_ I'm not a total asshole and I'm not going to force you to stop being friends or whatever. Plus _Panic_ must be your only money maker these days on the label, right?”

Pete wasn't entirely grateful for the change in topic, but he nodded his head. “We had a good run, but _Panic_ were always the biggest on the label anyway. I'll just call it a passion project now.”

“You're not hard up either way,” Patrick laughed, but yeah… Pete had a lot of money and not much in terms of shortfalls. He could afford to not have a super successful label these days. He knew that Patrick lost a lot of money when he went solo, but they don't really talk about it. 

“No, I'm not. Getting back to the subject at hand though. I'm gonna lay everything out there with Brendon, but you need to deal with it too. Talk to Lori, or the guys from your group.”

“I don't want to talk about this anymore,” Patrick said calmly, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “Have a good time, okay. I'll see you later.” Pete watched him leave the room, without looking behind him once. 

Brendon didn't live too far away, but Pete didn't text him that he was coming. He didn't want to put ideas into his head like he used to. It was all too much really, the thought that he'd kind of let Brendon's feelings fester and flourish without doing anything. Brendon wasn't as passive and reserved as Patrick, wouldn't hide the way he felt for fear of people knowing. 

Brendon's car was in the driveway, and Pete knew his code so he just opened the front door, calling out Brendon's name. The house was messier than Pete's and a little smaller, but he just followed the sound of music until he was in Brendon's office. 

“Hey dude,” Pete said, seeing Brendon slumped on his couch, keyboard flashing in front of him. “Annual label boss meeting?”

“Oh hey. I'm writing the new record,” Brendon said, sitting up. “Officially now, I guess.”

“And Spencer?” Pete remembered there had been some issues before, but he'd kinda forgotten about them when dealing with his own shit. 

“He's alright, I guess,” Brendon admitted. “He's working on the album with me, but I don't think he's feeling it. I'll be abandoned for good.”

“I mean, at least you'd get all the revenue as the only guy in the band? No need to split shit?” the guys Brendon had brought in for the last meeting were decent, but they weren't members in the real way, no matter what he wanted. “You're doing okay?”

“I'm doing usual,” Brendon shrugged. “And you?”

“We wrote songs as a four piece in my tiny cabin. We're surprisingly still a band and we're actually going forward with recording the album. I didn't see my life heading this way a year ago, but I'm so glad it did.” Pete rubbed at his forehead beneath his cap, to try and distract himself from opening his heart. 

“Don't release your record the same month as me. I don't wanna be totally overshadowed again.”

“No one ever overshadows you,” Pete responded, annoyed that Brendon even said such a thing. “I actually came here on personal shit though. About our relationship.”

“What about Patrick?” Brendon asked. Pete was confused for a moment, before he understood.

“No, I'm still with Patrick and I'm still doing monogamy. But, uh, after our last conversation and how it could have gone in the opposite way, we do need to have it out.”

“Oh dude, it was a joke and you were wasted!” Brendon laughed. Pete still wasn't entirely sure what was said that night, and he frowned as Brendon continued to laugh. “Whatever, dickhead. I stand by my thoughts. Patrick totally has a daddy kink. He's so...now you guys are together there's no, like, independent spirit from him and he was so cool in the past.”

“Oh my God, so that's what you said?” Pete asked, laughing at the thought of how taut and stiff lipped Patrick had been about it. He sobered up quickly, filing the thought away. “Okay seriously. There’s obviously been a change in our relationship. When I got with Patrick we had to stop hooking up and I feel like there’s still some residual feelings on your part that we need to talk about.”

“Now you sound like Patrick, all in your feelings and wanting to talk about them,” Brendon laughed, but it wasn’t genuine and his eyebrows were tucking in. “I guess it just blew me out of the left field a little bit, like. You've been in relationships in the past and we haven't stopped. Yeah, we've gone months without hooking up, but suddenly you're all virtuous about being faithful? It feels like wishful thinking.”

“Patrick is different.” Pete wished he could go at least a few weeks without someone questioning his loyalty. “I know that makes me a dick, but I have changed and it wouldn't be fair to do it to Patrick. Who was a friend of yours too at one point.”

“We were, I guess. But you and I were together first and that just pisses me off. You could’a had him for years, but you didn't want him chubby and badly dressed. You only want him now he's cute. I don't know if it's a pity fuck or what, but it isn't genuine.”

“It isn't a pity thing and it isn't because he's cute now, or whatever. It is genuine. I had him living with me and we fell in love with each other, or at least I did with him. He was already at that place,” Pete shrugged, trying to keep his cool. “He has stuck by me through everything. Anytime someone, rightfully or not, tries to call me out on shit he's the one defending me. This is the one thing that upsets him, that has him questioning his trust, so like. It has to be dealt with.”

“He doesn't trust you?” Brendon asked and he was doing that filthy smirk again, like it was a cover for something else.

“I guess he's seen me fall at your hurdle before,” Pete shrugged. He couldn't tell Brendon the real shit, about the difference in their sex lives and how that's the thing bugging him the most. “And at that party when I was wasted, maybe I was so drunk that if you'd have kissed me I would have let it happen.”

“But that ain't my fault!” Brendon flapped his arms. “If I kissed you it's because I wanted to. If you kissed back... Well, isn't that on you? Your autonomy isn't in my hands. ”

“No, I get that.” Wrong route to take. Maybe Pete was dipping back into asshole territory by saying that. “I guess I'm just telling you that there isn't a chance of us being together anymore and you should really stop trying to flirt with me. Even when I'm vulnerable and most likely to respond.”

“Fair enough,” Brendon shrugged. “But like, maybe Patrick's trust issues are founded if you're talking like that.”

“Nah. Fuck you.” Pete leaned his head back. “I'm just gonna have to take a step back from you, I think. We talk professionally, but we're gonna have to cool it on the friendship if we can't get on the same page about this.”

“Fine, dude. I got an album to write anyway,” Brendon said, looking down and not at Pete. “Maybe you'll figure a way to not blame me for everything.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Pete frowned, rubbing at his face and unsure of exactly what he achieved by coming here. Definitely not closure, maybe it was still too soon for that. Brendon still so obviously had other things going on in his life. Maybe Pete had been an outlet for him too, not exactly love, but a way to push past whatever stress was in his life. Pete didn't know, but he didn't want to stay long enough to find out.

Patrick was doing what he did best when Pete tried to call him from his car. He ignored the message and Pete sucked in a breath, trying his hardest to remember that Patrick was so cool with everything else that he was within his rights to not be happy about this. 

Still, Pete was kinda pissed. And so he called Andy, because that was his thing when he was feeling low. 

“It's been, like, a week,” Andy joked, when he picked up the call. 

“I'm in a shambles. A total fucking shambles because where you stick your dick in the past apparently comes back to bite you in the ass,” Pete said. “And I fucking hate ass play.”

“Too much, Pete, “ Andy said. “So Patrick's pissed at you for something? “

“I'm trying to fix the shit with Brendon, but now I feel even worse! Patrick has shut down like he always does about this stuff and talking it out with Brendon has backfired and I think I accidentally ended the friendship.”

“I don't think anything is ever that set in stone. At least you've had it out with Brendon rather than stringing him along,” Andy said diplomatically. “For the time being anyhow.”

“I've known them both since they were kids. I don't want to hurt either of them, but I think I would anyway.” Pete shut his eyes to the sun streaming into his car. 

“Considering you're basically Brendon's boss, maybe it would be an idea to cool your friendship a little.” Pete was the label head but he'd never considered himself the legit boss. 

“I feel like I'm abandoning him a bit though.”

“Yeah, well. If you really want to navigate a relationship with Patrick you're gonna have to do things differently. You can't have both, you know?” 

“I know. I just feel responsible, I guess.”

“Yeah, you should.” Andy laughed down the line, directly in Pete's ear. Yeah, he knew he deserved it, but still. “Look. Stop bugging me with your problems and go… have sex with Patrick and do whatever it is you guys do now.”

“That's crude, Andrew,” Pete chided, but he was feeling a little better for ranting. “But you're right. You always are and that's why you're my guy.”

“Yeah, enough of that. We'll talk at your next crisis.” Andy hung up after that, but Pete was feeling better about it. 

 

Patrick wasn't at home when Pete got in, which just lengthened his angst because he really fucking hated fighting with Patrick these days. Especially when it was the kind that had hardly any verbal arguing. 

He made himself a huge bowl of guacamole and took it to the den to eat his feelings away. He watched reruns of _Jersey Shore_ until he heard Patrick singing his way into the room. 

“Oh hey,” Patrick said, sitting down beside Pete. His eyes clocked onto the green mush in the bowl as he took a seat, fingers brushing briefly through Pete's hair. “I'm sorry I was cagey this morning.”

“It's okay. You had your reasons which I get.” Pete watched Patrick dip his finger into the guacamole, nodding his head to Pete's words. “I'm not gonna be around Brendon for a while. At least on a personal scale. Just business.”

“Now I feel like a dick,” Patrick said, finger dropping from his mouth. “I don't wanna be the reason you guys can't talk.”

“We'll get through it eventually. Things needed to change,” Pete said. He watched Patrick stare down at his lap, his eyes flickering with thought. “You still find it hard with me being around him. I should maybe, just, try and not invite him to parties that land me shit faced and alone with him. You know, just in case I fuck up.”

“Right,” Patrick said. He smiled like he was grateful. “But you're not fighting over me, right? Because I don't wanna cause anymore friction for anyone.”

“We're not fighting. It's all good,” Pete lied. It felt like the right thing to do, plus he took Andy's word as law, and figured he'd get back his friendship with Brendon at some point. 

“I'll take your word for it,” Patrick said softly. He kissed Pete and then scrunched his nose up, pulling away. “You make crappy guacamole. Needs more chili.”

“Go big or go home, right?” Pete laughed, watching Patrick stare at him like he didn't get it at all. 

They hadn't had sex in what felt like forever. Pete wouldn't lie. Adjusting to Patrick's sex drive was tough now they were out of the tangled woods of their early relationship. They hadn't done much since the cabin, but Pete never wanted to push it. 

“This is like the best thing,” Pete said, mouthing at Patrick's stomach. He was soft and pliable tonight, allowing Pete to push his sleep clothes out of the way to kiss at his stomach. “Man, I like this.”

“Yeah?” Patrick asked, a little shaky. Pete looked up from his place against the small swell of Patrick’s stomach, but he was smiling at Pete. He nodded his head, his signal that is was okay to continue. “You have weird fucking taste.”

“You benefit from it so quit with the whining,” Pete teased, leaning up to kiss Patrick. Patrick kissed back, loosening him with Pete’s hand stroking his stomach and his tongue in his mouth. He'd gotten easy. “Can I fuck you tonight? It’s been forever.”

“It hasn’t been forever,” Patrick teased. There was something sparkling in his eyes as he clutched at Pete’s face. “Do the other thing first. You know...”

“You want me to eat you out?” Pete asked. Patrick didn’t always ask for it, but he was loud when he got it and Pete liked that side of him. He loved doing it anyway, but he was in a bargaining mood. “Can I fuck you afterward?”

“Maybe,” Patrick smirked. “Maybe, if you make it really good.”

“I always make it good.” Pete kissed Patrick once. “Oh hey, so I finally found out what I forgot Brendon told me at the party. You got a daddy kink, Patrick? That why you're embarrassed to talk about it.”

“You’re definitely not fucking me now,” Patrick said, half-heartedly slapping Pete's shoulder. “I don't have a daddy kink, I just didn't want to repeat it when you forgot! It’s gross.”

“Yeah yeah.” Pete teased, wriggling back down the bed once more. “I know how you like it. Don't worry.”

He felt like he never really sucked Patrick's dick much anymore, either. Maybe because he didn't get it done in return. Plus, he'd always preferred eating Patrick's ass. He was more responsive to it and he'd never had it done before he got with Pete. It was something they had together, as lame as that sounded. 

He teased with a light tongue at first, gently stroking over Patrick with the tip of his tongue. He liked to feel Patrick shake and moan with the first stroke, as Pete's hands pushed his thighs up. 

Teasing Patrick was so good because he was so expressive he basically allowed Pete to do whatever, but still cried out and turned a varying shade of pink throughout it all. As Pete flattened his tongue against Patrick’s cleft, hot breath teasing Patrick's sensitive skin, he finally started to really wriggle for it. His hand resting on Pete's head as Pete pressed his tongue inside, seeking out all the secret places of Patrick that no one else had ever found. 

“Fuck, yeah.” Patrick groaned, pushing at Pete's head as his slick tongue squirmed inside. Pete fucked him with his tongue, giving Patrick everything for a short while. He still held one thigh up with his hand, but he was using the fingers on the other hand to use as a guide for his slick wet tongue. 

“Tell me how much you like it,” Pete said to Patrick, as he lifted for a breath. He moved back down again, teasing with the swipe of his tongue and the briefest press of a fingertip inside before he stopped. “Tell me.”

“Fuck...can't you tell how much I like it? I'm so...I dunno. I like it a lot. Just keep doing it.” Patrick was stumbling over his words as Pete blew a hot breath over where he was open and pulsating. It was so fun playing like this, having Patrick so relaxed without any thoughts of something negative. 

Pete dribbled over his fingers and then quickly pushed one inside, watching Patrick’s face. He arched up, ready for it, and pushing the sinking fingers further into his body. 

“Good boy, taking it so easy now,” Pete said, feeling Patrick clinch all hot around his fingers at the words. Pete grabbed Patrick's dick in one hand as he wiggled a second finger inside. He was wet from Pete's tongue, but was so tight too. He rocked up with his eyes shut, desperate for relief from  Pete’s hand and his fingers. “You look so good getting fucked, Patrick. Always knew you would.”

Patrick looked at Pete for the last part, eyes opening from where they'd been squeezed shut. He came hard, back arched, whining thin into the back of his throat. Pete stroked him through it, fingers still pressed inside even after Patrick stopped clenching.

“Okay, that was good,” Patrick laughed. “But I have no stamina with you.”

“We can work on that.” Pete leaned down and kissed Patrick’s knee before smiling slyly. “Is it cool for me to fuck you now.”

“I suppose,” Patrick laughed again. 

It was like a comfort fuck more than anything else. It was strange because Pete had been desperate to screw Patrick for a while now. It had been building beneath his skin, slower than the way he was after therapy, but he'd been waiting a while. Now he had it, with a condom on and a lubed, slick dick in his hand, he was mostly doing it for the emotions. For the want to be held by Patrick, who was warm and open and who could take Pete’s weight on top of him now. He still kept his face up, near Patrick's chin rather than anywhere near his neck, but his thrusts were gentle and he was breathing through the tightness of Patrick, holding onto the feeling of delicious warmth as he fucked him.

Patrick just held him through it, not in any discomfort by the sounds of it. He just hummed, occasionally hissed and breathed softly in Pete's ear as they fucked. His face scrunched up afterward, when Pete pulled out, but then he was lending Pete his dopey smile and his warm hugs and it was basically perfect.

 

Patrick was the one that arranged where wanted to record. Pete knew at some point or another, Patrick would find his way back to his favored studio in Chicago, but the bulk of it was done in California. With Butch at the helm of it all. 

“I mean, I almost feel bad we’re not doing it with Neal, but I think we all agreed to start afresh. None of us wanna fall back to how things were before,” Pete overheard Patrick telling Butch as they tracked one of the songs. 

It was a good job that Butch was both experienced with Patrick and his opinions in the studio. It was fascinating to watch; Patrick was still sensitive when it was the two of them at home, but he'd armored himself with their music and was using it as a way to push against his anxiety. Pete was scared shitless about it, but the more they worked on the songs in the studio, the better it sounded. The more right it felt.

“I hope you’ve been tweeting weird shit about being in a relationship,” Patrick said to Pete, late one night in the studio. The two of them were practically living there at the moment, focusing on the album more than anything else. They were alone in the room, huddled up on the couch together, trying to get enough go in themselves to get home for the night.

“Yeah, of course. Can't wait to come out with you, sneakin’ all these little pics of you to put on the internet.” Pete laughed as Patrick gave him a filthy look, before throwing an arm over him and kissing the side of his face. “Nah. I'm kidding. Mostly.”

“Whatever. Come take me home now, I'm tired.”

Patrick was subdued the next day. He still had his moments like that, days where he went in on himself; close to crying and not wanting to be touched by anyone, even Pete. This didn't feel like that exactly, but it was similar.

“Can we take off from the studio today?” Patrick asked as they drank coffee in the kitchen. Pete nodded his head. Joe would be in the studio, working on tracking  guitar for a couple of songs. It’d be a reprieve for him not to have Patrick breathing down his neck. 

“Sure. Is there somewhere you wanna go?” Pete asked. It was always best not to question things when he was like that. Pete had learned the hard way.

“Maybe Santa Monica pier? I dunno, I always like it there.” Patrick’s voice was soft, kind of monotonous. Pete nodded, ready to go with whatever he wanted. The recording studio was in Santa Monica anyway, they could always poke their heads in if Patrick changed his mind.

Patrick was almost completely silent on the drive over, but he stuck close to Pete as they walked the pier. It was tacky and busy, but Patrick’s eyes were flickering around, focusing on everything all at once. His fingers occasionally clung to Pete's wrist in his comforting squeeze, but it wasn't wise to seem too close. They were so close to getting to announce their relationship without being caught out that they didn't want to lose their chance to say it properly.

“How do you deal with therapy when touring?” Patrick asked Pete. “I feel like I still need my sessions with Lori. Would I do it like I did in the cabin?”

“Yeah, that's what I used to do. I stopped for a while, probably when I should've been in it most,” Pete admitted. “I went back around late 2010 time. If you talk to Lori about  it I'm sure she'll be able to work in a new schedule.”

“I know you're probably right,” Patrick smiled at Pete. Tired eyes blinking behind his big glasses. “It's, like, the photo-shoots and the interviews that terrify me most. I'm still not into people touching me.”

“Interviewers don't touch and photo-shoots won't be like before...we'll be a cool band now, and I promise I'll keep my shirt on now. No more refusing shirts that the stylists throw at me.”

“Yeah,” Patrick scrunched his nose up, remembering. “You were such a douchebag back then.”

“I know.” Pete shrugged awkwardly. He wanted to embrace his past, but it wasn't all that easy. “You wanna get something to eat?”

They ate in a little restaurant just off the beach. It was only nachos, but Patrick still managed to eat them. His mood was low, so Pete presumed his ability to eat would be too. 

“I've been counting it down the last month or so. I was able to push it away as we worked on the record, but today it just hit me like the heaviest weight in the chest,” Patrick said, looking glumly at his water. Pete frowned, not understanding as Patrick stared at him. “Tonight will be a year since the rape.”

“Oh shit. I had no idea.” Pete smacked himself hard on the head. “I knew it was this month, but not yet.” Honestly those first few weeks into the crisis last year all blended into one. Those long nights in his house, pulling Patrick from the bath tub; waking him from the night terrors that left the bed wet and his heart in pieces. It was all just locked in the back of his mind. 

“I kinda wanted to tell you it was coming up but at the same time I thought If I focused on recording it would just pass me by.” Patrick smiled sadly, elbows on the table. He was in the leather jacket Pete had bought him and he looked good, even with the aura of sadness around him. 

“How is it making you feel?”Pete asked, channeling Joanna only a little bit. He watched Patrick shrug his shoulders, biting at his lip. 

“I'm not sure. I've just been obsessed in my head with the thought of thinking that _this time last year I was fine. I was the old Patrick, who was normal._ But from tonight I won't ever be able to do it and it's weird. I dunno. I'm not sure how it makes me feel.”

“That means we’ve been back in each others lives for a year. I've shared my bed with you for a year, and let you bond with my son for a year. We fell in love and restarted our band and both of us are so much more better off than we were, you know? Like, I know you’ve been through hell this last year, like serious hell, but we’re both happier I think now.”

“I agree with that now.” Patrick smiled at Pete. “I wished it never happened about seven times a day, but I do feel in a more stable place now than five years ago, especially with you.”

“You were just a kid back then,” Pete shrugged. Fuck, he just...he just could _feel_ how in love with Patrick he was right now. It was pulsating right beneath his skin. 

They went to the closest movie theater and watched a dumb comedy together in the back of the theater. They did it years ago when they first met, but now was a little more intimate. There wasn't anyone else in the screen with them, so Pete felt obliged to kiss Patrick a little. It was a cheer up more than anything else, but it seemed to work. Patrick was responsive and only pushed Pete away once when he groped him under the popcorn bucket.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally come to the end of this fic! Thanks for sticking through all of it, it's been a long one  
>  :)

Patrick checked in at the studio while Pete drove them home. He was being _maybe_ a little brash in how he was trying to force Butch to play the current variation of a song over the phone, but considering what today was to him, he’d cut him some slack. 

Patrick disappeared once they got home, to go take his shower, or whatever else he needed to do. Pete worked on some lyrics by himself, trying to fix the verse of a song they were nearly finished with. Patrick came to him an hour later, dressed but with dripping wet hair and clutching his old iPod.

“I wrote a song once, when I was working on my solo stuff, but I shelved it because I don't like it for myself. I think it might work for us, maybe, but like. It’s kinda...the lyrics need work,” Patrick said, sitting beside Pete. Pete grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it over Patrick’s head. _“Pete.”_

“Dry yourself off for once,” Pete laughed, but took Patrick’s iPod in hand. “Alright. I should prepare myself for your lyrics?”

“Yeah...look. We can change them, but just listen and don't be mad.” Pete couldn't be mad at Patrick on a night that was as significant as this one was. He listened to the song, for the music first and then again for the lyrics. The sound was good, but it wouldn't have fit on his solo stuff. The lyrics were...yeah. Pete was an asshole, forever an asshole. 

“It’s a good song,” Pete said quietly, when he pulled the buds from his ears.

“I was angry at you, trying to heal from the unrequited part of our relationship. The lyrics are harsh and we can change them.” Patrick was saying with his eyes shut and a blanket still hanging over his head. He looked so stupid, but Pete was too wrapped up in his own emotions to care.

“No, I don't wanna change them,” Pete said, thumbing the dial of the iPod. “Maybe tweak it a little, if that’s good? I'll even take the credit and say I wrote it in case it offends anyone with the name ending in Trohman, but I feel like it needs to exist to remind me I was an ass.”

“Okay.” Patrick smiled, finally pulling the damp blanket from his head. “It shouldn't be the reminder that you used to be an asshole though.”

“I do have a ton of those already.” Pete waited until Patrick smiled at him before he did the same. “Maybe I'll keep it as a marker to never go that way again.”

“Right.” Patrick laughed and then leaned forward, pressing his damp head into Pete's. “Wanna know something really dumb?”

“Absolutely.” 

“I know I just got out the shower, but I really wanna take a bath with you now.” Pete laughed, nodding along. That sounded like a boss idea if he was being honest. 

After a quiet night together, drinking whiskey in the bath and just spending time together, trying to ignore what was taking place exactly a year ago, Patrick decided he wanted to go back into the studio the next day. 

And boy, was he back to his usual self. He was threatening Butch with a replacement if he didn't tweak one particular thing. Pete started calling him Tinkerbell to everyone when he left the room. Patrick could be a huge dick in the studio, but you needed his magic to get that special touch. 

“I wrote the song I played you last night up in Chicago, but I kinda want to take it back there to work on it again,” Patrick said to Pete, sweet as anything. It was like he hadn't been bossing everyone to hell all day. “It feels like a Chicago song.”

“Yeah, okay. I'm not gonna argue with you,” Pete said. He smiled at Patrick, watching his face flicker into uncertainty. 

“Do you think I'm being too much? I just got a lot of passion, but I can hold back. I think it's just pent up adrenaline from everything.”

“Nah you're just being your usual bossy self in the studio, but we all like it. We know it works. Plus, you don't know what we all call you when you leave the room.”

“What do you all call me?” Patrick asked, with pale brows raising into his bangs. 

“Don't worry.” Pete leaned forward and kissed his soft mouth. “Just keep forcing a badass record out of us.”

Patrick did exactly what Pete thought he would, and more or less killed them with his ball busting need to get the album done. Pete enjoyed it just as a much as he got frustrated at Patrick. That had always been them, and he's glad that it hasn't changed, it just fueled the love a little more.

They currently weren't talking though, because Patrick had been demanding a little too much of Pete and he wasn't into being yelled at in front of everyone in the studio. To be fair, he did it to everyone, but they weren't sleeping, Pete was exhausted. Pete was also a little of something else, but he didn't know how to approach it.

“I'm sorry that you're overreacting,” Patrick said, unhelpful as they walked back into the house. They were taking separate cars tomorrow, Pete wasn't driving him to the studio again. “You're the one that told me you want me to continue forcing a record out of us.”

“You could calm it down a little, Patrick. You are way too much for me right now. And I'm just…” Pete inhaled  a breath, staring at Patrick, who looked so aggressively cute in the kitchen. Pete wanted to take him apart right there, get him out of the clothes and onto the kitchen counter. 

He had to take another breath though because Patrick was a bitch in the studio, but they weren't spontaneous like that with sex, Pete couldn't pin him down and fuck the sass out of him.

“Patrick, just go away for a while, alright? I need to calm down before I do anything dumb.”

Patrick giggled, “Oh yeah, like what?” his eyes were sparkling, he was amused by this all. Pete took a breath and slid over to him, hands pushing against Patrick’s hips. He walked him back until Patrick hit the flat edge of the kitchen counter. “I can be good now. To make it up to you.”

“You’re gonna need to try real hard. I'm super pissed at you,” Pete said. He shoved at Patrick’s hips, forcing him up onto the kitchen counter. Patrick smiled, warm face flushed as he wrapped his legs around Pete's waist, dragging him in.

“I'll be on my best behavior,” Patrick said, pressing his lips to Pete's. His voice was low, full of breathlessness. “I promise.”

So the sex had been good on the counter-top. Pete didn't lose it like he did with others, but Patrick was still left with bruised thighs that Pete didn't want to look at afterward. He hadn't ever felt guilt with his physicality in the past, but with Patrick that had changed. It didn't help that Patrick’s nightmares had come back with more frequency. When Pete woke that night, to Patrick crying out in his sleep, he felt like he might have been to blame.

“I get them more when I'm stressed,” Patrick said, when he'd awoken and calmed down. He rubbed at his face, back curved as he slumped forward. “It's always the same fucking thing happening, but I'm terrified every time.”

“Are you sure it's just stress?” Pete asked, between rubbing Patrick's back and letting him feel for his pulse. 

“Yeah, what else would it be?” Patrick said, laying back down again. He was pasty in the lamplight, sweat beading between his brows. 

“I was pretty rough with you earlier.” Pete knew there was a point Patrick had to push past earlier, when Pete was biting at the insides of his thighs. He'd frozen briefly and Pete had stopped, until Patrick told him to continue. 

“So? We've been over the humiliating explanation that I actually like it. I'm not going there again. It isn't that, Pete, I promise. It isn't like you're in the dreams doing it. I dream of what's already happened, you know. But it doesn't get easier, and sometimes waking up isn't easy because I can't push it aside. Sometimes,” Patrick bit at his bottom lip, like he didn't want to continue. 

“Sometimes what?” Pete asks, stroking at Patrick's hair, watching the way he was cautiously opening himself up. 

“Sometimes I wake up and the pain is back. I can _feel_ it. I've had it a lot this week. If there's a way to get fucked up from this, I'll find it,” he laughed, wiping at his face. 

Pete was fixated on that last part. “Pain as in…”

“From what they did. I dunno. It must be a phantom thing, I only get it after the nightmare.”

“Have you spoken to anyone about this?” Pete asked, running his spare hand over the knuckles wrapped around his wrist. 

“Only you just now.” Patrick's eyes flickered shut, rubbing his soft cheek against the pillow. “I don't get it and I don't want to. Just figure it's a side effect of the nightmare or whatever. Still beats pissing my pants.”

“I don't think it's an ‘either or’ thing,” Pete responded, but Patrick just shrugged, tucking himself closer to Pete. His heart rate had slowed as he tracked Pete's with his fingers, and his breathing had calmed too. 

“I just wanna sleep now. With empty dreams.”

They managed to get the album recorded with little fanfare. Patrick didn't exactly calm down, but he re-aimed his bossiness towards Butch and the rest of the producers instead. Pete still called him Tinkerbell behind his back, and accidentally once in front of him, but he'd already been killed a thousand times by Patrick's venomous stare in the past, another wouldn't hurt. 

They had a photoshoot scheduled a month or so before the drop of the single and announcement. Patrick had been flying back to Chicago on his own to work in his favored studio, and then once, with gushing excitement when he had to stop everything and record with Elton fucking John. It was hard sleeping away from each other those times; Patrick hadn't learned to function alone at night. The nightmares were easier to deal with together. Pete worried like a parent on the nights he was gone, knowing Patrick was restless and scared. They probably should have dealt with it sooner, but if the band was going to take off again, that'd be a solid year of touring afterward. They'd be with each other the whole while. 

But at the photoshoot, Pete was _excited._ He hadn't ever hidden the fact that he liked these aspects of being famous; the controlled ogling of a camera, the flirtatious tickle of a make up artist's brush against his nose. It was his place to shine, to do his part of the band machine. 

Petes publicist had turned up as he did his solo shots. The rest of the guys were still with wardrobe and as he hopped off camera and to the side in his black shirt and jeans, he allowed his publicist to run some ideas by him. 

“He'll say no to that,” Pete told her, when she ran an idea by him. Patrick would shoot down most things about making their relationship public. He'd be for keeping it quiet if he knew they could get away with it. Pete knew that much. 

“Coming out in the statement isn't enough. You need to be seen together. This is kind of old school, more fun than a twit pic. He seems kinda above being in selfies with you.”

“He's too pretty. He knows he'll break my camera,” Pete joked, not entirely liking the way she made Patrick sound like a douche. It was true that Patrick was making her life harder, but like, Pete understood why. 

She disappeared not long after. It was supposed to be Patrick up next for the solo shots, but Andy was the one walking in front of the lens. Andy caught Pete's eyes and threw his thumb toward the door behind them, where the stylist had set up. 

Pete walked around, only ruining one of Andy's frames by jumping behind him. The stylist wasn't in the room, but Joe and Patrick were. Patrick was staring at his knees, Joe's arm over his shoulder. 

“Look what the hot damn cat dragged in,” Joe said, winking at Pete and rubbing Patrick's shoulder. “You wanna go next? They're saving the best till last with me.” Patrick got up, smiling at Pete, but not saying anything as he walked past in his fedora and cute outfit which was…. Exactly the same clothes he's arrived in. 

“Feel like I walked in on something weird,” Pete said, taking up the seat Patrick just vacated. “Has something happened?”

“Patrick's not super feeling the shoot today, but I calmed him down.” Joe sounded proud of himself, before his jovial tone lowered slightly. “The stylist was getting kinda… handsy with him, but Patrick wasn't really into changing his clothes anyway.”

“To be fair, none of us have really changed our look from when we turned up this morning.”

“Yeah, but the rest of us didn't threaten a huge tantrum at the touch of the dude with the never ending pile of metal shirts.” Joe paused long enough to let Pete take the image in. “Is a stylist even needed? We all look basically the same…. You're wearing an actual shirt instead of a rag with holes, but otherwise.”

“When he's stressed he has more nightmares and when he has nightmares he doesn't sleep and he has a thing about being touched by people he doesn't know…"

“Dude, you don't have to explain it. I know what happened. I know the difference between a Patrick tantrum when he wants his own way in the studio, to one where he's genuinely terrified. I can handle him. I can handle him second to you. I’m totally second in command.”

“I'm expecting an authentic one later. My publicist wants candids released and he will hate me for agreeing with her.” There was also the little fact that Pete figured with Panic due a new record soon, they could drum up press and the fan bases by touring together. It was perfect in a business sense, but Patrick wouldn't be happy with it at all. Not on a personal level. 

“Good luck with that,” Joe laughed, patting Pete's shoulder before standing up. Pete blinked away the thoughts of Patrick killing him for the tour and smiled up at his friend.“Better go put my best face forward.”

The group shots went fine as well. No one else in the band cared to pose for longer than they had to, aside from Pete. Joe and Andy were quick to leave, trying to hold onto the little downtime they’d have before it all exploded.

“Okay, so like, I think I should send flowers or something to the stylist today. I blew up at him without meaning too,” Patrick said, as they walked to the parking lot. “He kept trying to touch me and make me wear clothes that I didn't wanna wear and I just wasn't feeling it, but now that I've calmed down I feel like a total ass and I don't want that to be his only opinion of me.”

“Patrick take a breath,” Pete laughed, pulling open his door and climbing in. He wondered if Patrick knew that Pete wasn't his manager, and he was perfectly capable of sending flowers himself. “You’re hardly gonna be the only brat he’s dealt with in his career.”

“I’m not a brat,” Patrick said, buckling up. “I just got caught up in my head and that sorta got things confused. So find out who he is and send him flowers from me.”

“I’ll do that for you if you do something for me, then,” Pete said, angling himself for the issue Patrick was going to be super pissed about, the non-Brendon based one. “When you were having your meltdown, my publicist swung by with some advice.”

Patrick cut him off as Pete pulled out of the parking lot. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to finalize some shit, make sure we do things like we said, but she says we need to do more than write a blog post. We need to be seen at some point together or it might come across like a ploy for attention.”

“We’ve got a full schedule of gigs and interviews...I'm sure we’re gonna be seen together,” Patrick said. Pete wasn't sure if he was deliberately missing the point or not.

“She means as a couple. Like, maybe at a courtside date, or something.” Pete paused as the lights turned to red. He watched Patrick, who was staring flatly at him, clearly unimpressed. “You don't like that idea?”

“Last time we went to a game together you said you'd never take me again.”

“Yeah, because you were playing dumb fucking games on your phone the whole time. That’s not what… I didn't want to do the whole walking hand in hand outside a restaurant with you. That's so fucking dated, but you’re not into selfies either.”

“I’d rather be in a selfie than recognized at a basketball game.” Patrick had his arms folded over his stomach like a petulant child. 

“You know, if you paid attention to the game you wouldn’t realize you were being photographed,” Pete tried, but Patrick was still staring at him flatly. “This feels more organic than a forced photo anyway.”

“There is nothing organic about me being at a sports game,” Patrick said, and it's only because it was so true that Pete laughed out loud, moving off when the lights changed. “We wouldn’t have to kiss or anything like that?”

“No, Patrick. We don't have to kiss,” Pete said, but he kept the teasing to a minimum once he realized Patrick was relenting in his stubbornness. “I mean, I'll have to acknowledge you a little. We don't have to be front row, either. Just the two of us at a game, with tickets I don't even have to pay for. We’ll make the management pay.”

“Fine.” Patrick sniffed, but his voice was soft and lacking any kind of stiffness. “Send flowers to the stylist and I’ll try and look affectionate in front of a ton of people.”

The next few months flew by in a whirlwind of time. They were finalizing aspects of the album, filming a video that they weren't even in, but Pete had more ideas on how to make it bigger. Now that they were really coming back, he felt like it was his time to shine; this was the aspect of the band that he was good at.

Christmas and New years flew by too, which Pete was sad about because it was their anniversary, but he did manage to whisk Patrick away for the night to a hotel. They got drunk in the overpriced hotel bar and when they got back to the room, Patrick was all sentimental in his drunkenness. All Pete wanted to do was bury his face in Patrick’s warm stomach. 

But then it was February and they were literally about to announce that they were back. They'd all shot down rumors of a reunion; wanting to keep it a surprise. There was a nervous atmosphere from all of them as the song played for the first time on the radio. Patrick held Pete's hand beneath the table as they waited. No one could see from the angle, but Pete needed the touch. 

They had a statement ready to go live; wedged between two innocuous paragraphs was the line about them getting together. Even Pete was a little nervous about how that would go down, but there was more than that to deal with. They were traveling to Chicago later on, to come back in the best way; a tiny intimate show, like the ones they used to. 

So far so good. The Internet liked the song, were actually hysterically into it. They might have to bring forward the album release. Pete was already thinking steps ahead of everyone else. He was gonna mention to Patrick in the next week or so, the fact that he wants to bring Panic on tour. Patrick would hopefully be too high on the thoughts of being back in the best way, to care too much. Pete was totally into wishful thinking now.

After the whirlwind of interviews and press and getting sick to death of the single already, they were backstage at the tiny venue, in their hometown. Patrick had been warming up his voice, but now he was clinging onto Pete's wrists, catching onto just how nervous Pete was too. 

“We're actually back,” Patrick said. “Pete, I can't remember any of the lyrics.”

“It's fine. I remember them all, I got your back,” Pete promised. They could hear every scream and cheer of the crowd. They felt it in their own racing hearts. Pete couldn't remember the last show they had like it. Years ago. Years before they broke up the first time. 

“Come here. I got you something . Something for tonight.” Patrick was moving onto something new, pulling Pete from the dressing room into the corridor. There were people everywhere, but they found a corner, behind amps and equipment. Patrick pushed him against the wall and Pete could hear pop music playing loudly, thumping against his back. 

“Thought you were panicking about forgetting lyrics,” Pete said, as Patrick smirked at him. He looked so different now, different to the kid from all those years ago, and the one from the recent past, feet dangling, shoulders hunched on the hospital bed. 

“Yeah, but then I figured I'd tell you how I'm gonna make you lose your brain too. So we're even.” Dirty talk was always a good thing when it was coming from Patrick's curved lips. Pete lost his tongue a little as Patrick looked around, before thumbing the button of his tight jeans and pulling the zipper down. 

“Panties.” Pete said. Emerald green lace poked out from the darkness before Patrick quickly zipped himself up again. “For me.”

“You've been begging for ages. Plus I said it'd be a treat… today feels like a good treat. Providing we get through the night.”

“We'll get through the show,” Pete said, sliding his hands over Patrick's hips and pulling him in. Patrick was clearly too surprised to pull away, or kick Pete in the balls. “We'll get through the show, but I dunno how long I'll last when you're wearing shit like that.”

“And I thought I was the one with bad stamina,” Patrick laughed, pressing his lips against Pete's briefly before pulling away. 

Patrick did forget the lyrics, but he looked so fucking cute as he did so, that Pete just laughed along as he mouthed them at him. He couldn't forget the throwaway lines he’d written all those years ago. Having Patrick sing them now after all the lost years, it was fucking insane. It was fucking insane that the crowd was singing alone; crying hysterically, reaching out at them. It was all _fucking_ insane.

The venue was tiny, like ten-years-back tiny, but they were slick and Patrick’s voice was so good. Better than Pete ever realized it could be. They hadn’t been a band in going on four years, but now they sounded better than they ever had.

None of them could stop shaking afterward. Even ever-cool Andy was hiding his fidgeting fingers as he spoke with friends. Patrick was talking like he was wasted, Joe’s arm over his shoulders. Pete was stuck to his phone, analyzing the reaction from the show. Tweets were everywhere. So were comments about their relationship. Weird shit about it being the ultimate stage-gay, which was maybe true, if only for the fact that it was finally real now that Pete had dropped the antics onstage. 

“What are they saying about us then?” Patrick said in the cab to the hotel room. Pete hadn't forgotten what Patrick was wearing beneath the pants and he couldn't wait to get him out of them once they hit the room, but Patrick was too classy for a back of a taxi grope.

“Like, a chunk think it’s just a ploy to get attention for the comeback, a lot of comments are weird… but the rest is supportive. I guess we’ll find out more tomorrow, after the game.” They had tickets for the basketball game. Pete won that round, somehow, though Patrick just smiled tightly. 

“I’ll hold your hand at the game, but I'm not kissing you,” Patrick said. “And I’m not going on twitter forever. Until our second album.”

“Yeah, alright.” Pete laughed, feeling at peace as he stared at Patrick’s soft face. “We fucking rocked tonight. Worth everything, right?”

“Yeah.” Patrick answered softly. His eyes flickered to the front seats before he turned to Pete. “Let’s talk about it more later.”

This felt like the start of something already known. The familiar feeling of worn-out bodies on worn-out hotel beds. The same photos on the walls and the same safety instructions on the back of the heavy door. It was the start of not remembering what state he was in, or what country in Europe they were headed for next. For years the idea of going back to that life terrified him, but he was so ready now.

“Fucking look at you,” Pete said, laying on the soft bed, plump white pillows under his neck as Patrick crawled up in the bright green lace underwear. “I’m so so glad my birthday treat wasn't a one off.”

“It’s a twice a year thing at best,” Patrick laughed, climbing on top of Pete’s lap. “Shouldn’t have worn it during the gig. So chaff-y.”

“Stop bitching. You like it just as much.” Pete ran a hand up Patrick’s thighs, stopping when he got to the delicate underwear. It was thin; Patrick’s pale skin poking through the scalloped edging. “This has been amazing.”

“This last year has been a real fucking trip,” Patrick said. “Like a total learning curve. Can't believe we’ve made it this far. Made it past a whole year as a couple. Thanks for sticking by me and all my… shit. You know.”

“You stuck by me for years,” Pete said, content to just stare at Patrick in the expensive lingerie as they talked things out. 

“That doesn't mean you should do the same,” Patrick frowned down at Pete. His hair looked darker in the low orange glow of the hotel room, but  Pete brushed it from his face. “To be fair, even if I hadn't been raped and we’d somehow ended up like this, I feel like I’d still be saying the same thing. I'd be a lot to handle, either way.”

“Yeah, you would, but I like it. No one else gets to boss me like you do.” Pete groped Patrick, laughing when Patrick nipped at his neck. One day he’d like to be able to do the same without triggering Patrick. But they had time. They had forever now. 

“Plus I let you have sex with me in expensive panties,” Patrick said. He nipped at Pete’s lips, laughing as Pete lightly spanked him. It was tease more than anything, but he slipped his hand beneath the flimsy edge. 

“You gonna let me fuck you in these panties, right? Be the good boy I know you are and come when I tell you?” Pete whispered, pushing his finger a little tighter against Patrick, who laughed low at Pete's words. His eyes had darkened though, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “Yeah. I got you good.”

“Yeah, you do. I wanna feel you on top of me tonight.” Patrick rolled over onto his back, legs falling open, emerald panties not hiding anything. Fuck. Pete didn’t need telling twice. He rolled over, mouthing at Patrick’s stomach, moving lower to catch the panties between his teeth. Patrick laughed as Pete attempted to drag them down, stretching the elastic and flimsy lace. “Calm down.”

“You calm down.” Pete leaned up, kissing at Patrick’s mouth. He rubbed Patrick through the lace, laughing when he bucked into his touch. “You did so well tonight. Tell me what you want.”

“I already did.” Patrick scrunched his nose up. Not playing along as well as he did sometimes. He threw his arms over Pete’s shoulders and kissed him with tongue. “Do me like you love me. That’s all.”

“Yeah, okay.” Pete sank down into Patrick’s warm embrace, wanting this to last as long as possible. Both because this night was like a turning point after the hell of the last year. This was their life turning back towards the sun again. And also, Patrick was in _panties._ Pete didn't want to have to wait another year for the experience again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, particularly those that stuck through the whole series. Feedback would be great. :D


End file.
